Tainted Violet
by taintednerve
Summary: All of murder house in Violet's POV. What was behind the mind of Violet Harmon throughout her life, and the afterlife? Violate (Tate Langdon x Violet Harmon) I don't own AHS (American Horror Story). Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: ****Hi everyone! This is my first ever fanfic and I'm really excited about his story. The setting is American Horror Story season one, Murder House, all in Violet's point of view. This is the first of many AHS fan fictions. Rated M because of language and sexual references/situations, just to be safe. I definitely might do a Parmiga fanfic or Kyle/Zoe one too someday. Anyways, enjoy!**

Chapter 1:

I trudged into the front door and threw my ivory bag in the corner of the mudroom. As usual, my head was sweating from the heat of my pork pie hat that I ever so ungracefully took off of my head and threw it with the rest of my shit. Thank God I had gotten through school- now I can quickly do a crap job on my homework to get it over with, and spend the rest of my day in paradise: blinds down, reading, and listening to all my best friends: Nirvana, Morrissey, the Kinks, and the Ramones, blast throughout my isolated room without a care in the world. My ankle-high floral dress softly grazed my calves as I walked through my soulless house, about to scamper up to my room and escape to my world, until I heard an awful sound. The noise made me cringe a little, and I decided to not be so damn ignorant and find out where the fucking wailing was coming from. I finally came across my mom, sobbing into her hands, looking like it was hardly able for her to stand.

"Mom?" I questioned, confused on what the hell was happening. Her weeping face looked up at mine, as my mom's trembling hands brushed firmly through her hair. Her eyes were full of pain and abandonment.

"What the hell is going on?" I spat, more clearly now.

"Where's dad?" I asked again, the volume of my voice increasing. She didn't answer. All she did was throw herself into my arms, like a helpless puppy. She continued sobbing as I sympathetically patted her on the back. At last, she calmed down. I arose and helped her onto the living room couch.

"Mom, what happened?" I questioned in a quiet tone. She began to explain.

**~30 Minutes Later~**

My mom doesn't deserve this. Nobody does. Especially after her brutal miscarriage. How much bad luck can one woman have? _I'm going to fuck his shit up if it's the last thing I do. _My heart pounded, full of rage. I loved my dad, of course I did. Maybe I was closer to my mom, yes, but that didn't mean I loved him any less. How could he fucking betray her like that? Especially when the slut he had the affair with could be young enough to be his own fucking daughter.

"Violet, please, calm down." He said. He talked to me with a slow paced and clear voice, goddamn, it sounded like how a teacher speaks to a mentally retarded 3 year old. Or maybe that's just how he talks to his patients. What a sick bastard, thinking he can go all psychologist on his own fucking family so we can be fixed, even though but he can't accept the fact that he broke it in the first place.

"I'm tired of your shit, Ben, pretending you're the all American dad with the perfect family, thinking you can get away with everything, maybe even screwing your own student while your wife is in the house!" I yelled sharply, a theoretical play in the words I enunciated. I must have looked like a fucking lunatic right there and then, my face red with fury. Tiny beads of tears danced down Ben's cheeks as he stared at me, with grief and remorse.

"Violet, please don't speak to your father that way." Ben ordered, his voice strict yet trembling with sorrow. Oh, so now the big fancy shrink is going third person in this disaster, just fucking fantastic. I rolled my eyes, and after a few awkward seconds, my mom started sobbing again. Same as my dad, except this time he reached out and tried to hug me. Hell no, he was going to hug me and we would all sob into one big family fucking hug and everything would be okay. No. It wasn't ever going to be okay.

"Get away from me." I ordered, throwing a full force of seriousness in my voice. I shoved his chest away from me. From now on, I would repel from him like a magnet. He cringed and his face formed into an ugly little wail of tears. My face was emotionless, no tears, no anger, nothing. I just stared at my two pathetic parents for a while, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.

**~A month later~**

Los Angeles. Such a horrible disgusting place, where strippers and coke whores run free. I would literally give anything to be in the East Coast right now. I looked out the car window just to find more cars, sun, building, and roads. Nothing else. What a fucking prison, I can't imagine what school would be like.

"The light is different out here, it's softer." My mom said enthusiastically, looking around.

"It's called smog." I scoffed with disinterest. Hallie panted and looked around wildly, trying to imitate my mom.

"You should be excited Vi, you can stop sneaking cigarettes and start taking deep breaths." Ben encouraged. Who the fuck does he think he is? Is he trying to connect with me or some shit? Please, the very first chance I get, I'm escaping this hellhole. I was done with him already. I took off my gigantic crappy Walmart sunglasses and complained,

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"We're almost there" Ben assured.

"I need to go." I protested in a rather bitchy manner.

"Vi, it's a freeway. Really, where do you want me to pull over? Maybe the Honda next to us has a bathroom or something." Ben joked, although it wasn't even fucking funny.

"Bet if baby had to shit, you'd find somewhere." I bitched, again. Sure, it might sound rude but it was goddamn true.

"Really? Violet I hate that word, unless I'm saying it." Mom said.

"You know, I'm really glad we named you Violet, instead of our second choice." Ben stated, changing the subject.

"Which was?" I questioned firmly with great impatience for the answer.

"Sunshine." Mom answered, putting on her sunglasses. Ben chuckled like fucking Santa Claus as he drove. I giggled sarcastically, an obvious fake grin plastered on my face. Sunshine? What the hell were they thinking? And I thought Violet was bad. Violet, a pretty flower that everyone loves and cherishes. The irony, right?

"It's funny. Come on, you gotta admit it's funny." Ben teased. Then he fucking grabbed my mom's hand. He grabbed it like it was all sweet and romantic. Please, that's probably how he grabbed that Hayden girl's ass. I smirked when she pulled it away, losing grip. My mom wasn't stupid, she knew her boundaries. Why couldn't she just divorce him already?

**~They arrive at the Murder House~**

"I love it. Don't you love it hun? I-I mean it looks even better than it did online." Ben insisted with impression. Here we go with the shitty "All American Dad" act again.

"Yeah it's-It's interesting." Mom agreed. I stared at this mansion for a while. It was dusty, old, and snooty. It was like a palace for creepy dirt bags.

"Great. So we're the Addams Family now." I declared. This house was so not going to be one I would live in. No fucking way. I'm not going to shelter myself behind a reminder of my family's heartbreak and fail of a desperate thrive to become perfect once more. If Ben imagines me to be fucking Wednesday Addams, an iconic family daughter, helping her fancy father to protect the sweet family fortune, you can forget about it.

"Hey, crabby-pants, come here." Ben hollered. Crabby-pants? So he has pathetic nicknames for me too? Holy shit, I didn't know he was that desperate to look like an even bigger shrink than he actually is.

"What are you doing?" Mom asked, cradling Hallie in her arms.

"Isn't this place amazing?" Ben exclaimed. Of course it looks great in his mind. A big fancy mansion for a big fancy psychologist. It's almost disgusting to me how he tries so hard. A pudgy lady in her late 40s opened the door to the house, her voice fake and overly friendly. As "Marcy" or whatever her name was, babbled on about the house and it's unnecessary features, I looked around. On the inside, it was gloomy and vintage. The musk of glazed wood wafted in the air with a slight aroma of tobacco. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all. There was so much fucking space though, probably enough to fit, 20-something people living together in one house. There was something about this house, I could feel it. There was soul. It was desolate, yet it's presence was a whirlwind of diverse qualities about it. Forget the fucking space, I wanted to see my room.

"Tiffany fixtures!" Ben whispered excitingly, playfully shoving my arm. I smiled half heartedly and nodded, although I had no fucking idea what he was so excited about. As my parents toured on with Mrs. Marcy, professional real estate snooty bitch, I wandered off upstairs to a bedroom, not so big, not so small. The walls were plain dark blue, and there was a faint hole in one of the walls. The paint was cracked and chipped in several places, and the hardwood floors were dusty and creaky. I absolutely adored it, as far as adoring something goes for me. This would be my room, I could feel it. I could see me on the bed, blinds down, Morrissey singing into the nooks and crannies of this place. Out of everything I've seen in L.A., This was the best place here so far. I went downstairs into the kitchen to find Ben talking about family or some shit. Thanks Ben, for giving this bitch the impression that we're all perfect, just like you do with everyone else. Hallie barked suddenly, like there was an intruder in the house or something.

"Violet, honey would you go see where Hallie went? Thank you." Mom asked ignorantly. Fine. I guess I'll just do every fucking thing by myself thank you. I hobbled over to Hallie, yelping at some door.

"What are you yapping at?" I questioned with annoyance in my voice. I looked at the door she was barking at for a few seconds and decided to open it because why the fuck not. The door was locked. I tried opening it a couple more times but it wouldn't open. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, it opened with ease. This better not be some _Coraline_ shit show or something with a magic fucking door. The door creaked eerily as I opened it. It was a basement. I stepped down the unstable steps into the rusty dark basement with old brick walls. This was pretty fucking cool, what can I say. I like dark stuff, it's like I'm attracted to the darkness If you want to make it all dramatic-like. I stepped up the creaky wooden stairs once more, and found the rest of the _Brady Bunch_ In a large room.

"Murder-suicide." Marcy explained as I arrived with Hallie in my arms. Yes, I knew it. There was something special about this house, I knew it. The souls of the dead echoed throughout each room, hall, and piece of furniture in this place. I fucking loved it. This was a dream, a great miracle of dark demeanors right in front of our noses. There's no way in hell I'm not letting my parents buy this house.

"I sold them the house too. They were just the sweetest couple. You never know I guess.." Marcy continued.

"That explains why it's half the price of any house in the neighborhood I guess." Ben said as I looked around even more. This house was great, I loved it, and it will be ours. As Marcy said something about having a nice mid-century ranch in the Valley, I decided to step in.

"Where did it happen?" I asked, intrigued.

"The basement." She replied. Even better. It was finally time to make my move.

"We'll take it." I declared. Done deal. My parents looked at me, confused, but I know, this is the right choice for the god forsaken Harmons. Maybe this move won't be so bad after all. I could learn to adjust in a murder house.

**AN****: And that's the end of the first chapter! I'm sorry it's so short, most of the chapters will be longer. Please give reviews, because I think we all know I need a little critique lol. I won't post the next chapter until I get enough reviews. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:****Hey guys! Thank you so much for your feedback last chapter! I really appreciate it :3 This one will definitely be longer ^-^! There's sort of a triggering scene in this chapter about self harm, if you don't like it, skip it (^_^) I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, remember to leave reviews! ily guys ****J**

Chapter 2

Why can't I just sleep forever? Maybe then life would be less boring if I was stuck in my dreams. The thing about sleeping, for me is that at night, I can't sleep. Voices and carnage in my head take over, and if I close my eyes, frightening images and visions come to life. Maybe that's why I'm not afraid of anything. I've already experienced the fear, so the things everyone else is afraid of, are nothing compared to what I see. Finally after a long fucking time I drift off into sleep. Then, I can't wake up, and I'm better off not waking up. I decided to get up anyways so I could finish unpacking. I had a lot of free time on my hands so my room was already set. There were just a couple more books in my room that needed to be placed on the bookshelves and boxes of shit that needed to be placed somewhere. I finally came across a box that said "**_V_**_i__**ol**__et_**'s t**h_in__**gs" **_written really sloppy in expo marker. I opened it to find some clothes and a small cylinder box made of authentic handcrafted wood. I grabbed the box and quickly planted it under my bed. After I got packed I dressed for school: I wore a fiery dull orange crochet dress with a gray sweater underneath and black tights. **(The one she wore when Leah tried to make her eat the cigarette)** I didn't dress to impress anyone. I dressed for me. I hardly looked in the mirror because I didn't care about my appearance: if my hair was messy, if I had any facial dysfunctions, even if I was wearing my clothes on backwards- It's just school, who would I need to attract? I grabbed my flat top, black pork pie hat and set it upon my head. When I was satisfied that I was ready, I went downstairs into my dad's office and opened several of his drawers until I found a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. I snuck them into my bag and headed to the kitchen to find Mom talking to our old wrinkly maid, Moira.

"Hey mom, going to school, bye." I rushed.

"Violet, honey don't you want some breakfast?" Mom questioned politely.

"Not hungry." I replied quickly.

"Well, listen, I'm really glad you're taking this move well. I know it must be really hard, and with your father and I are still working on our relationship. But hey, this could be a good experience to make new friends and find people with the same interest as you.." she droned on, probably unaware I wasn't listening.

"That's great, Mom." I smiled sheepishly. I don't know why I was in such a rush, I guess I just wanted to leave the house.

**~Westfield High~**

High school. The era in one's life when all their hopes and dreams flush down the fucking toilet. What a great place, right? My first impression of Westfield High was that it exercised teenager's minds to think they're the shit. The real deal. Nice one Los Angeles. I arrived at my locker to find some short black girl in a headband walk up to me. Freshman, obviously.

"Hello, uh welcome to your first day of 10th grade, I see you've already found your locker, Vi-Violet Harmon.." The girl greeted, reading off a professional-looking sheet of tan paper. So she was those tour guide people. _I don't need any fucking tour guide thank you. _The girl talked with stamina in her voice, like how they do in the insurance commercials.

"Uh, thanks but I'm good, I don't need a tour." I insisted as polite as possible, although I came off sort of cruel and pissed off.

"Oh! Y-yes of course! Um, goodbye!" She stuttered as I left and began to analyze the halls. Everyone here, boy, girl, dickhead, slut, they were all the same. The girls were dopey and fake, wearing so much makeup it could peel off their face in seconds. The boys were like Ken Dolls, strutting to class, almost like plastic. East Coast was so much better; we didn't have much variety so not many people didn't get along, except me. I was the only different one I guess. This school had jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, emos, anything you can imagine, it's there. The only thing is, they're all fakes. I know, I tend to stereotype a lot, but what can I say, I guess that's human nature. My plan for school here, is exactly my plan back in East Coast, keep your head down, get through the day quickly, don't bother talking to anyone or looking at anyone, they're not worth the time and the drama. That's the plan. I got through my Literature, my first period, and then Spanish, World Geography, and then Biology. I practically slept throughout Spanish and secretly listened to The Kinks on my crappy iPod in Biology. Finally it was lunch. Of course, I didn't eat, I was never fucking hungry. But at least I could listen to music, read a book, and maybe even smoke a cigarette in peace. As I arrived to the cafeteria, I lighted up my Marlboro and inhaled the anticipating smoke that swirled in my lungs like heaven, burning deep and heavy in my throat, full of life. As I exhaled, I watched a group of girl discuss, all of them wearing odd clothing like magenta leopard or neon denim which was pretty fucking funny to stare at their poor style choice.

"So I let him." The bitch in the leopard bragged in a cocky manner

"Do you coke off your nipples?" another girl asked the bitch eagerly.

"They were numb for like, two days." The bitch replied, staring at me. What the hell was her problem? Her skanky dress swayed as she came up to me.

"Hey!" she huffed fiercely, clearly yelling at me with great rudeness in her voice. Goddamn, she had so much makeup it must take hours to put it on and take it off. Her cruel misty blue eyes blazed into mine with anger, like a lightning bolt.

"Student council passed a rule against smoking in public places." She informed, as if she was saving the day or some shit.

"Secondhand smoke kills." Her friend in the preppy neon shorts chimed in.

"I'm new, I didn't know." I explained. So this is a shit school with crappy rules I guess. I stick to the plan, I won't talk to these whores anymore and get the fuck out of their business. I dropped the cig and smushed it under my converse shoes.

"What the hell is wrong with you? People sit here! They eat here!" The queen screamed as she picked up the cigarette from the dirty ground. What was this skank's deal? Why was she so fucking uptight? What the hell was her problem with me?

"You don't know me. Why are you doing this?" I questioned sternly.

"Leah's grandmother died of lung cancer. She takes this stuff pretty seriously." Her friend explained. So the bitch has a name!

"Eat it- eat it or I'm gonna kick the shit out of you." Leah threatened with confidence, holding the still lit cigarette in her bony manicured hand.

"No." I replied, prepared to attack. Was this girl mentally ill or something? Was she actually serious, that she would kick the shit out of me? I'd like to see her fucking try.

"Come on Leah, that's enough." Her friend beckoned.

"No, no, no, I want to see her eat it." Leah insisted with determination. She then grabbed the back of my neck and pulled herself toward me with force, attempting to stuff the cig into my mouth. I did my best to pull her fucking arm back.

"No!" I screamed.

"Eat it, Eat it!" She ordered.

"Leah, seriously, she's like 12!" Her friend hollered. Leah still continued to try to harass my tongue with the burning cigarette. Seriously, I've had enough of her shit. I conjured up my saliva and spit right on her fucking face. She then screeched a scream so pathetic I actually wanted laugh on the spot.

"You are dead! You are dead!" She yelled, her voice heavy with disgust as I ran away from the scene laughing my little ass off.

**~Back at the house~**

I didn't bother doing my geography homework, grades were worthless anyways. Kurt Cobain's voice rung through my room and I let myself slip to my own world, escaping all the demons, like Leah. I lay on my bed, staring at my rugged ceiling for a while until I heard a scream. _Shit, _I thought and ran to see where the sound's location was. In the halls, I found a ladder leading up to some sort of attic and climbed up with caution. Both of my parents were there, staring at some sort of sex toy suit.

"What happened?" I asked with worry, catching my breath.

"Holy shit" I said. The suit was rubbery and sleek. I guess the gay couple who lived here last did a lot of fondling. Hot.

"Let's get rid of it. Come on, let's go downstairs." Mom insisted calmly. We both stepped down the stairs.

"It smells like shit." I said. The smell was strong and smoky, unlike cigarette smoke, but more like smoke that comes from the burning of ashes.

"It's sage. It was a gift from our creepy southern neighbor, Constance. Apparently it cleanses the bad memories in the house or whatever." Mom explained.

"I don't believe in those ghost stories." I scoffed. Mom smirked and led me to the kitchen where Moira was dusting the cabinets.

"So kiddo, whatcha wanna eat tonight?" My mom asked, clapping her hands together.

"Not hungry." I answered rapidly.

"Violet, honey I don't want you to be fat but I don't want you to starve either. Are you okay?" Mom questioned with concern. I don't deserve Mom caring about me like this. She cares so much, I'm afraid one day she's just going to care, and care, until eventually, she's going to fucking break.

"I'm ok, just, not in the mood." I replied and dashed upstairs to my room before she could ask any more questions.

**~The next day~**

I've had enough. I've had enough of school, people, life! Everything. I can't take the pain anymore, the harassment. I just want to fucking hurdle into extinction and never come back. It hurts, it hurts so fucking bad. To breathe, to swallow, to blink, to live. Why can't I just click my heels three times and leave._ I'm going to explode, I'm dying on the inside._ I want to sob and end it all so bad, I can't breathe. The voices. The voices in my head are conjuring up a storm. It stings just to know I'm still alive. I want to give up, I need give up. All these thoughts in my mind and yet not even a single tear generates from my eyes. I'm emotionless, as always. Instead of crying, I need to let out my emotions in times of distress. _I need to let it out._ I stormed into the house and ran up to my room. Ben was in his office with a patient. I only caught a glimpse of the patient. He was blonde and had a green and black striped shirt on, but who the hell did I care what he looked like? Actually, who did I care if he was there or not? I tugged on my hair and paced around my room until I snatched the small cylinder box under my bed. I took it to the bathroom and opened the box. It had razors and small knives I collected over the years with some bandages and concealer. I took a razor and huffed a deep breath. Some people may see cutting as a cowardly act, but it takes a lot of courage. Courage to make the first slice. Of course, this wasn't my first time, my wrists were stained with several scars. I finally put the razor to my wrist and cut. I didn't care anymore, I just cut. It stung for a while, but then I became detached from the realities of feelings. I was too asleep in my little dreamland of sadness. Too asleep to feel. Little beads of blood expanded around the cuts as I continued to slowly trail it horizontally across, still, my face had no emotion. No tears, or screams, or cries, nothing. The blood splattered onto the sink, little drops that were silent as they hailed onto the glazy white surface, yet louder that anything you could possibly imagine.

"You're doing it wrong. If you're trying to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can't stitch that up." An unknown voice said. I looked up at the intruder, his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was tall, and had messy blonde hair, and chocolate brown eyes that seemed like if you stared at them long enough, you would get lost inside of them, forever. He was attractive, that's for damn sure, although I was never one to actually be attracted to anything. Boys were never an issue for me. I never thought about them or swooned over them. He was Ben's patient, but why didn't he leave already, and why was he here? I turned over to him.

"How'd you get in here?" I asked strictly, feeling that my privacy was quite fucking violated by this asshole.

"If you're trying to kill yourself, you might also try locking the door." The intruder suggested with a smirk on his face as he shut the creaky bathroom door. What the hell just happened?

**~The next day~**

_School is a hellhole._ It literally serves no purpose. If my parents weren't always nibbling on my fucking head, I would have dropped out a long time ago. In Literature I kept my head down. Thank Christ I sat at the back of the class so the teacher wouldn't catch me sleeping. While Mr. Aarons was babbling on about shit, the door opened and the whole class stared, except me, whatever was so interesting to the others wasn't worth my time. I squinted the tiniest bit at the front of the class to see what everyone was fucking about. A male teacher in a wheelchair whispered something into Mr. Aaron's ear and then left. I heard some bastard say to his friend,

"They're talking about building a memorial for the Westfield High Massacre." Whatever this was, I didn't want to get into it. The rest of school was boring as always, except Leah keeps fucking glaring at me. _Like the bitch is going to even do anything. She doesn't have the balls._ Today I wore my navy floral dress that flowed down to my feet, with black worn out converse and a magenta long sleeve shirt inside. I decided to smoke at lunch, again, this time against a brick wall behind the school where no one could find me. Apparently a teacher smelled it and we had a _No Smoking_ assembly. We had to fucking make "Tobacco kills" posters in wellness. What is this? 3rd grade? When I came home, I threw my bag in the corner of the door and decided to relax in my room. I passed Ben's office and there he was. The intruder. If I could, I would run up to him and jab out his eye socket that split second for discovering my secret and then being all cocky and eager about it. Who the fuck did he think he was? But I didn't go and beat him up, I just watched Ben and the intruder talk.

"You think that's me? You think I can't get any better?" The intruder asked, looking up at Ben weakly.

"You? You kidding me? You're hopeless." Ben scoffed. He then chuckled with a toothy grin. The intruder laughed along, almost psychopathically.

"Everybody can get better Tate. Everybody." Ben explained with encouragement. Tate. So he has a name. Tate's smile vanished.

"I just think you're scared. Of what, I'm not sure yet. Maybe..rejection. Certainly because of what your father did to you" Ben continued. _This was a great performance Ben, really, I applaud._ Tate looked at the ground, almost sad.

"I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work." Tate finally explained, changing the subject. He smiled, his dimples sloped and bright.

"What?" Ben exclaimed with fascination as he too, grinned. Tate laughed silently, his face almost red, nodding.

"Yeah, that's why I didn't take the meds. I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work. Because I met someone." Tate replied, now serious and innocent. His eyes suddenly stared at mine, and I felt as if I was about to have a fucking heart attack right on the spot. A shiver ran through my spine as I ran upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me, heart pounding. He met someone. Was that person me? I asked myself this question as I cradled my body on my bed. What the fuck should I care if that person was me or not? Tate's probably one of those stoners who eats shit out of girls' asses for dinner every night. My door opened and Tate was standing there, his hand still on the metal door handle.

"Why are you always breaking in?" I scowled. Tate looked hurt. He stepped inside and looked around my bed room as if he had been born here or some shit.

"Listen, what you saw the other day.." I said.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me" Tate interrupted. He sat across of me on the floor.

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked with suspicion. He moved closer towards me and pulled up one of his sleeves, displaying his wrist.

"This one I did after my dad left. I was ten, I think." He told, pointing to the scar. I nodded as he showed me, and studied him. I could see the resemblance to Kurt Cobain in him, the clothes and all. He had a sense of Seattle grunge style in him. I decided to trust Tate, to connect with another human being for once, and test the waters. After all, there was something about him. Something different, unique. He wasn't like the other kids at my school, he didn't have that plastic faux attitude. I pulled down my sleeve and showed my scars.

"Last week, first day at my new school, sucks." I stated.

"Westfield, right? The worst." Tate replied. Finally, someone saw that prison in my point of view.

"I got thrown out of there." He admitted. Lucky son of a bitch. I wish I could get thrown out. I smirked at him and shook my head.

"I hate it here. I hate everyone. All their bourgeois designer bullshit. East Coast was much cooler. I mean, at least we had weather." I complained.

"I love it when the leaves change." Tate said. His face was really genuine when he said this, it made my heart melt a little. Melt? What the actual fuck am I talking about? I guess Tate was significantly cool if you could say that. He wasn't a stoner, he was like me.

"Yeah me too." I agreed with a smile. A real fucking smile, teeth and everything. Tate got up from his sitting position and started looking around the room.

"Why'd you move here?" He asked.

"My dad had an affair. My mom literally caught him in the act." I answered casually. Tate spun around and looked into my eyes.

"That's horrible. If you love someone, you should never hurt them…never." He sympathized. There was something about what he said, that made me all jittery. Talking with him made me feel like I was as high as a kite.

"Right? I know." I agreed. Tate picked up a piece of chalk and started to write on my chalkboard.

"And the worst part is that six months earlier, my mom had like this brutal miscarriage. The baby was seven months old, and we had his macabre funeral. Have you ever seen a baby coffin?" I continued. He had written the word TAINT in big letters. _Special Death _by _Mirah _played on my iPod in the background. Without taking his eyes off of me, Tate sat down across from me once more and held my hand, he traced his thumb over my scars slowly. His face had a shitload of emotion, It almost looked like he was about to cry.

"I'm sorry." He apologized. I just stared at him, probably looking creepy as fuck, looking into his eyes. This was too awkward; I decided to change the subject. I arose, and slowly paced around the room.

"Why are you seeing my dad?" I asked him. I know, I called Ben "dad", the least I wanted was for Tate to know I have daddy issues.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to. You're smarter than that." Tate replied; the look on his face was like a dog growling at a cat. I stopped the song and smirked at him. Maybe he liked cool music too.

"Wanna listen to Morrissey? He's cool and he's pissy, and he hates everyone and everything." I suggested, a smile resting on my face once more. Tate looked eager and elated.

"Got any Kurt Cobain on that thing?" He questioned. This boy was perfect. For one thing, his music style was really attractive, that's for sure. I grinned wide and my eyes sparkled. I couldn't help it, I finally found someone who wasn't a dimwitted rat in this shit show.

"What are you doing in here?" Ben rudely interrupted.

"Just listening to music, Dad." I replied, knowing this was going to end bad.

"You need to leave Tate, I'm sorry. You shouldn't be here, and I think you know that- please." Ben cruelly escorted Tate out. Tate got up as I was sitting on the bed. I wanted to stop him from leaving but Mr. All American Dad here was busy doing what he called "saving his daughter".

"What's that thing you think I'm afraid of? Fear of rejection?" Tate asked sullenly, right in Ben's face. I boiled with anger as Tate exited. How could Ben be such a fucking idiot? Can't he just open up his eyes for once and see what's in front of him instead of following his shitty psychologist instincts?

"Stay away from him." Ben spat.

"Dad, nothing-"

"You heard me!"Ben yelled. He was such a fucking fake, he disgusted me. Where the hell was my dad? The one who would never cheat on his wife, the one who knew what I was going through?

**~The next day~ **

I got ready to go to hell (school), I was wearing a navy blue flannel underneath a black and white dress. **(The outfit she wore when she burned Leah) **I finished off the look with my usual pork pie hat. I couldn't stop thinking about Tate, how Ben just kicked his ass out. It was injustice. I went downstairs to go to school when I came across the fucking old maid humping Ben. Holy shit, I didn't know Ben had a thing for older woman, good for him, getting it on. I then realized how my mom didn't deserve this shit. She didn't deserve Ben one bit. She tries so, so very hard while he's getting hard. Screw him, he can go suck my ass. _He's not my father and he never will be. _I departed with a scoff. He noticed me leave and yelled my name.

"Violet! Violet! Damn it!" He yelped. _Unbelievable. _

**~At school~**

As usual, school was full of bullshit. Why do I even bother going? I wonder why Tate got kicked out; he would've been my purpose for going. World Geography was hell. Today was one of the rare days I wasn't ditching it. I had an exam coming up for it and I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. Finally it was lunch time. I prepared to go to my little smoking spot when a familiar narcissistic bitch approached me with the rest of her hive behind her back. They were standing in equal formation, hands on their hips. It was so cliché it hurt.

"What do you want now?" I asked Leah, impatient and moody.

"You are dead." She declared, emphasizing on the word "dead".

It was like a cannon fire; her pale manicured hands slapped me hard against the face, my pork pie hat sent flying into the air. I tried to fight back but her swarm of bees yelled a battle cry and slammed me face-first against a wall, my feet not-touching the ground. I could feel my forehead throbbing, and blood dripping down from it. The assistants pulled me back from my attempt at attacking the queen bee.

"I'm not scared of you!" I screamed as everyone in the whole fucking cafeteria rose to their feet and circled around us cheering or some shit.

"You should be!" Leah yelled back confidently, spitting right in my face with her pathetic articulated words. They all made a sharp turn to the side, plunging me to a table, my face in a tray of food. I turned around and began punching Leah as she punched me back, biting on her lip. Three was stronger than one; and all of the bitches wrestled me to the ground. Everyone around us chanted,

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" I wasn't here to give them a fucking performance. This ends now. We kept wrestling, and Leah growled in a high pitched manner as I punched her right in the gut. I finally punched all of them off of me, except Leah who kept trying to fucking strangle me. I could see it. A lit cigarette rested on the ground, a few inches away from my arm's length. This was my chance. With all the shit vested in me, and all the energy I had left, I grabbed the cig and burned Lea on the back of her hand. She squealed and held the injury, shaking with anger.

"OW! She friggin' burned me!" Leah yelled with pain. Then I got the hell out of there, grabbing my pork pie hat. I decided to ditch the rest of the day, for if any teachers see the bloody injury on the side of my forehead, there's no doubt in my mind they'll question me on how I got it. As I walked home, I asked myself how I'll hide it from my parents. The warm blood slowly dripped down, and I wiped it, not completely cleaning it all up. I prayed that neither of my parents would be in the kitchen the time I arrive, so I could easily make my escape to my room without being noticed. I opened the door to find my mom feeding Hallie. _Shit. _I tried to use my pork pie hat to cover it, and casually walked inside, but it was too late. _Busted. _

"Hey." she greeted. I gave a nod and was about to make my way when-

"Whoa. Come here." Mom ordered, obviously noticing. I was stopped in my tracks.

"What happened to your face?" She questioned with worry.

"Fell down." I lied. She sighed, already used to this shit. I obeyed her and sat down.

"Boy or girl?" She asked.

"Girls. Three of them."I replied like this was an everyday situation.

"Hope they look worse than you do." Mom joked as she was fetching a washcloth. I smirked.

"Do you know their names?" She questioned.

"I'm not narking." I replied, fed up with all the past situations that had to include the dean, counselor, all that unnecessary shit.

"You know, we can easily move you to a different school. There are a lot of really good private schools right in this neighborhood." Mom suggested. _How about not going to school at all? _

"I'm not running away, I'm not scared of them." I implied. I wasn't going to be a coward. I wasn't going to leave my demons alone, I was going to show them who's boss. Maybe that's what mom's doing. Maybe she's not going to hide from Ben, but she's going to take the wheel. That's why she's not leaving him.

"Not afraid of anything. It's like that time in kindergarten, when you insisted that I bring you home from the slumber party 'cause all the other girls were sleeping with the night light on" Mom said as she took a blast in to past. I smiled. My parents are always saying that I'm not fucking afraid of anything. _Classic._

"I know you've gotten the short end of the stick, lately. This move, and.. your dad and I haven't exactly been great to be around." Mom admitted.

"Why don't you guys get divorced if you're so miserable?" I complained with curiosity.

"We still love each other." She genuinely said as she cleaned my wound.

"You could've fooled me. I thought you hated each other. Well, at least you hated him. I don't blame you. He was a shithead." I admitted. How could she still love that scumbag? Mom stopped cleaning my forehead and looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"Sorry." I apologized. She grinned with a sigh.

"It's okay. He was a shithead." Mom agreed. I smirked.

"You know we got a lot of history. Your dad's been through a lot, I've been through a lot, Guess we need each other." She continued and started to clean my wound again. I was her Violet, her brave, tough Violet. Why did she take so much pride in this? Is it because I had to protect her or some shit? Why couldn't she stand up to Ben?

"What are you scared of? You said I'm not scared of anything, so what scares you?" I questioned.

"Lately? Everything. "She answered. I looked into her eyes, and saw loneliness. I wonder what it would be like to be her, to have the person you love the most hurt you. To never be able to trust a single soul again. Then, she gave me a small smile and bobbed her head to the side.

"Life will do that to you." Mom advised. I took those words into consideration. I wasn't afraid of Leah, I wasn't afraid of what she would threaten to do to me. It was oppression. I didn't feel fear, I felt hate. I hated her. I hated what she threatened to do to me. I wanted revenge. Tate must be at a therapy session with Ben, I could still catch up to him. I needed to vent, to plan. As Tate opened the front door to leave, I bolted out the kitchen door to find him standing outside, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey." I greeted.

"Oh, uh, hey Violet." He said.

"Wanna come inside? We never really got to finish our conversation…" I asked. He smiled like the Cheshire cat. His dimples were so fucking adorable.

"Yeah, uh, I'd like that a lot." He grinned. He started walking to the back door in the kitchen.

"School has been shit. I wish you were there." I said. He looked ecstatic. His eyes were bright and he smirked.

"You know, for once, I wish I was there too." He agreed. I sheepishly grinned and looked down at the ground, overwhelmed with so much on my fucking mind; Leah, Mom, Ben, Tate, everything.

"Is everything okay?" Tate questioned, noticing my silence. I looked at him and his concerned face.

"Yeah it-it's fine." I replied. I lied. We stepped into my room and Tate locked the door. He went over to me, his face inches apart from mine, and took off my pork pie hat.

"Hey, give me my hat back you asshole." I teased. He chuckled with a dopey grin, but it soon faded into a serious and confused frown.

"Who did that to you?" Tate aggressively questioned, pointing at the injury on my forehead that Leah gave me.

"Some bitch started a fight with me at school." I ranted.

"What's this slut's name?" Tate asked, intrigued. He sat down on an old brown leather chair, both of his arms resting on the arms of the chair.

"Leah." I scoffed. Just the sound of her name made me want to vomit.

"I hate her! I just want to kill her!" I stormed around my room.

"Then do it! One less high school bitch making the lives of the less fortunate more tolerable is, in my opinion, a public service." Tate suggested. Of course really killing her was not an option.

"Look, you want her to leave you alone? Stop making your life a living hell? Short of killing her, there's only one solution. Scare her. Make her afraid of you. It's the only thing bullies react to." He advised. I stopped pacing around the room. I was curious, and listening.

"How?" I asked.

"It's simple. You simply walk up to her and say- Here's the deal: I need you to stop harassing me. I got what you want. Drugs. Come over to my house tomorrow for your free sample. I'm a dealer, and a good one. I got the best shit in town." He explained, his voice all theoretical and tense. This plan was good, real good. Only problem is, I'm not a fucking dealer.

"She's a cokehead. I don't have coke." I exclaimed.

"You won't need any. It's just an excuse to get her here. After that she'll leave empty-handed and terrified. And I promise you, you'll never be bothered by her again." Tate said. His brain wasn't full of jackshit like everyone else. He was goddamn smart, and he knew it himself. This plan could be the epiphany of all my problems. But what would she be so afraid of? A broken nail? A purse that's not on sale?

"How am I going to terrify her?" I asked.

"That's where I come in." Tate chimed in, determined and confident.

**~The next day~**

I got ready for school dressed in a lanky blue dress with white buttons trailing down the center, and a knitted lavender sweater over it. I completed the look with a raccoon fur hat. Mom had given me a thin white pad of cotton and injury gauze to hide the mark Leah gave me. I set out for school, reviewing the plan in my mind over and over again. Lure the prey, scare the prey, and defeat the prey. It was simple, difficult, and quick. Before the first bell rung, I stomped up to Leah and explained the situation, hoping she'd buy the fact that I was an actual dealer. With a smirk and a slow nod of her head, I had successfully tricked her. When I got home, I took off my furry hat and my bandage. I wanted her to see what she had done to me, and I wanted to do my best to scare her. As I was pacing around in my room, I heard a knock on the door.

"Dad, I'm not in the mood right now." I said. If Ben or Mom fucks this up by thinking Leah is my new friend or whatever, I'm in deep shit. But instead of Ben, it was Tate standing at the door, smiling. I smiled back and ran up to him.

"Tate? What are you doing here right now? You're supposed to come after she arrives." I questioned.

"I wanted to check on you, if you were ready or not, I've been rehearsing in the basement with Thad- I've been rehearsing." Tate explained. Who the hell is Thad? I eyed him suspiciously.

"Well, she's coming soon so, just um-uh just-just be prepared." I ordered. He nodded, his grin wide and his dimples sharp. I sheepishly smiled back. Then, I turned around, and grabbed my cell phone, but when I turned back, Tate was gone. *Ding dong* the doorbell rang. She was here. Mom was out, shopping for groceries, and Ben was in his office. I scampered downstairs, and yelled,

"I'll get it!" as I passed Ben's office. I finally opened the mass mansion doors. There she was, Leah, standing there with her arms crossed.

"Hi Harmon." She groaned.

"What's up slut?" I greeted in a sarcastic tone. She rolled her eyes.

"Let's just get this over with." She bitched. I nodded and escorted her in.

"let's go downstairs." I ordered, and she followed me down the creaky steps as I turned on the lights.

"What's down there?" she questioned.

"My stash. Parents toss my room every week." I replied.

"If you're screwing with me-" Leah said.

"It's just the basement. I found the best hiding place. This is great shit too. All the coke coming to the U.S. from Central America smuggled in on lobster boats in Gloucester. I used to show my boobs to the lobstermen in return for a key or two before they cut it." I improvised, smirking at her foolishness.

"So where is it?" Leah asked anticipated.

"Right around the corner." I answered. Leah took a deep breath and walked around the corner, sniffling for the smell of coke probably.

"To the right." I corrected before she headed towards the left. This had to be perfect.

"This place is a dump." Leah complained.

"Oh, shut up." I said.

"I want my goddamn drugs." She whined.

"Then keep going." I ordered. Leah obeyed. Finally, she arrived to the room Tate was in. I smiled as I saw his creepy glare.

"So this is the coke whore." Tate declared in a excited tone.

"Who the hell are you?" Leah groaned in a bored manner. I smirked at the sight of her falling into our little trap. Time for revenge.

"Get the lights." Tate ordered. I never saw his performance, I wondered what he had planned. The light slammed off. An electrical buzz rang through my ears as bright strobe lights flashed on and off. Tate generated a high-pitched, crazed maniacal laughter as he aggressively rocked back and forth in his chair. What the hell was this creepy shit? He continued laughing as Leah looked around rapidly like a tiny prairie dog.

"What is going on? What is going on?" She screamed, terrified. This was some scary ass shit, I could say that, but I felt a bizarre presence occur. Something was wrong. I stared back at Tate again, who looked like he was having a seizure in his chair. A light flicker later, I saw a devilish creature that _almost_ looked human in his place, hissing. *Flicker* there was Tate again, *flicker* the creature had black, soulless eyes, and shark teeth, glazed with blood. Its skin was a wrinkly white, and its bony hands attached to rusty long and sharp nails that had splatters of blood on it. It hissed once more. *flicker* Tate was muttering something as fast as lightning can strike, almost like he was possessed under some curse.

"Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!" He muttered, bouncing in his chair. His head was wrangling in opposite directions, Sticking out and wiping the air, as if he was in an electric chair. Then, he pounced, and a flicker later, he was on Leah's back, pushing her onto the ground. She yelped in horror. He was straddled on her, and used both hands to push her back until she was flat on the concrete. Leah screamed once more, trying to break loose of Tate's grip. He started laughing again, and shook her like a rag doll.

"Get off of me! Get off of me!" Leah yelled. Then, she screamed once more as the creature replaced Tate, it shook Leah, the creature's bloody drool touching her back. Leah screamed and screeched, wailing with pain. I didn't notice, but I was cringing, almost crying too. Tate wasn't like me, he wasn't cool, I thought he understood, but no, he was evil, he was a monster.

"Stop!"I yelled as the creature kept harassing Leah. Then, Tate, or the monster, I didn't know which one, pushed me to the ground. I landed on my hands, and quickly backed up and scooted back into the corner of the room, wailing for the nightmare to end. I hugged my knees. I was shaking with fear. This was worst than my terrible visions and dreams. It was anarchy. Tate, or the monster, flipped Leah onto her back. I kept begging for it all to stop. Then, the monster headed towards me, its mouth dripping with blood. I screamed a horrible scream that could probably damage one's vocal cords. I could see the monster's teeth, like a tiny alligator, stained with red. The monster's hand slowly reached eye level with me, and I backed up to the wall as much as I possibly could, screaming my lungs out. The monster's sharp curvy weapons known as its nails were inches away from my face. I yelped. With a flicker or two, the monster disappeared, and was on Leah again, Using its nails to scratch her cheek, leaving deep and gory, gigantic cuts on her face.

"Mommy?" She gasped and screamed throughout the room, fear echoing and bouncing off the walls. Finally, I had dragged myself over to the light switch and turned on the lights at last to find Leah writhing on the ground, the bloody wound shining. She continued screaming as she got up and fled the house. I was so fucking confused. What the fuck just happened? Tate was smirking, the same creepy glare in his eye as he slowly rocked back and forth in his chair. I followed Leah out to the stairs.

"Will you wait?!" I screamed, trying to catch my breath as she escaped. I heard Tate's footsteps running up to me.

"I don't think she'll be bothering you anymore." Tate assured, grinning.

"What was that?" I screeched, terrified. I didn't even want to get an inch closer to that- that freak! He was dangerous, cold blooded, I wouldn't be surprised if he secretly was the devil.

"What are you talking about? She hit me in the balls and got away. She must have run into a wall or something." Tate explained, confused and innocent.

"No, I saw something!" I protested, still trembling.

"Violet, you're talking crazy. This is cool. We showed that bitch." He persuaded. Cool? Cool? How could hurting others be cool? I shook my head in disgust. Tate was worse that Leah. And who was that monster? Was that Tate in a costume or some shit?

"Get out! I never want to see you again!" I scowled at Tate. He walked up towards me, a concerned and sad look on his face, I pushed him back with as much force as I possibly could, and dashed up the stairs.

"I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T AFRAID OF ANYTHING!" I heard Tate yell as I departed from the basement. He was sadistic, a monster, I never wanted to see him again, ever. And to think I ever thought he was like me. I loathed him, how dare him. Tears danced down my face as I buried my face into my hands. That sick bastard. Who was he really? What was he?

**AN****: And that's the end of Chapter 2! I really like writing this fanfiction so far, even if I'm still at the first episode *_* I really appreciate feedback and critique, so please, if you can, take some time to give me that ****J****3 I'm thinking about ending this fanfic differently than Murder House with a more decent ending, but idk. What do you guys think? I'm also thinking about adding some new people in it that weren't in Muder House since I have the freedom of saying what happens when Violet is at school? What do you guys think about too? I might have a poll for it later. Please please please leave reviews guys, each one helps! I won't post chapter 3 until I get enough! Love yew guys! 333**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:****Hi guys! I am so very shocked by all the reviews I got, holy shit I almost cried when I secretly checked them in school lol everyone was staring .-. THANK YOU SO MUCHH! You guys are legitimately the best people ever, I'm so thankful for my readers *Le cries* This whole chapter is, you guessed it, episode 2, home invasion. I'm so fucking excited to write this with all the action and the HORROR. You must understand that I'm a student, so with finals and all, I can only write on weekends, although I check your reviews every day *_* ! It'll be hard to update but I promise I'll most likely post once a week, so you can read to your heart's desire! I've decided to make this story end also with "post murder house", so watch out for that hehe. I love you guys so much, thank you for the lovely critique and feedback. **

Chapter 3

There were so much fucking unanswered questions. Questions that were hopefully solved. Soon. I cracked open my shitty phone and the screen flickered on. It was a text from Leah. I never saw Leah ever since the incident, not at school, nowhere. The trill of Tate's voice rang in my ears once more.

"I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T AFRAID OF ANYTHING!" And the visions of that awful mutated monster- these things executed themselves in my brain, every time I shut my goddamn eyes. I read the text:

**Leah: indoor skate park, we need 2 talk.**

I wondered whether or not she was tricking me. I needed answers. I already had enough on my chest. I felt so, unusually low, like something had changed. There was worry. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like the air inside of me was fake, like my lungs were detached from my body, as if living was some plan, some- act. What was this feeling? Hatred? Loneliness? I felt these feeling before, more than I could count, but it was different, I never felt _this_ way before. It was, perhaps, heartbreak. I liked Tate, he was like me. I trusted him with my secrets and was attracted to every flaw. For the first time, someone actually brought me joy. But that shattered. Now, he brought me anxiety. I walked to the skate park, and observing my new surroundings. I learned to adapt to L.A., it was like my life: It reeked of tobacco and tortured its citizens with its false luxury. Finally, I arrived at the indoor skate park. The place was fucking cool. The only lights were the Christmas lights that hanged all around the banisters and railings of the top of the rink, giving the area a dark, yellow hue. Old rusty music played in the background, setting the perfect mood. I walked up to the top of the rink to find a girl smoking, with bug-eyed sunglasses and a velvet hat that covered most of her face.

"You mind?" I asked as I plopped next to her.

"Hi, Harmon." Leah murmured, inhaling her cigarette once more. Leah looked different, tired. She wasn't so bright and flouncing, she was drab and carried negative vibes. I was now aware, whatever happened in my basement, changed her life forever. I couldn't help but feel like ripping out all of my hair because _I_ did this to someone. _It's all my fucking fault. _I grabbed a cigarette from her pack and brought it to my lips.

"You actually came." Leah said as she lighted me up. I inhaled the delicacy and the smoke surged through my throat and lungs. I finally exhaled and turned to her. This wasn't even her. Why did she choose to turn out like _this_ instead of doing something that could actually help her? I saw my dreadful self in her now, and realized why everyone must hate me. I was a big fucking loser, a gimmick, a dirt bag. The sound of wheels and skateboards panged against the rink. Leah inhaled again as I finished my cig.

"I thought you hated smoking." I said.

"I've taken it up. I can't sleep. I'm terrified of everything." Leah admitted, her voice trembling. She had a huge piece of white gauze that covered her cheek, where the injury was. I've practically mentally and physically scarred this girl. A huge fucking boulder crushed me as she explained her problems. I wanted to be annihilated by this burden of a boulder, really fucking bad, but I needed to counter with my worries, and deal with it.

"What attacked me wasn't human." Leah declared.

"It was Tate." I explained. Just speaking of that sardonic douche bag made me shudder.

"No, you saw that other thing too." She protested, her voice shaky and mad with anger.

"He was trying to freak us both out." I said, trying to make sense of it all. I had to be logical, this was just some jackshit make-believe mutant he pulled. She shook her head and returned to her burning cig.

"What'd you tell your parents?" I curiously asked. She sighed.

"Don't worry. I told them I got attacked by some chola on Melrose who wanted my Chanel." Leah replied.

"Couldn't tell them I went to your house to score coke, could I? I had to file a fake police report and everything." She continued. She was so miserable, so depressed.

"How deep are the cuts?" I questioned.

"Deep. God, and I-I can't stop thinking about that mouth." Leah wailed.

"It was a mask." I said. It had to be a mask, it just had to be. What else could it possibly be? Tate was a dickhead, scaring us like that. _Why would he do that?_ _That manipulator! _He was twisted and wrong, yet the only person that has ever made me happy.

"He was purposely trying to terrorize you." I explained. It was my idea. To scare Leah. I shouldn't have been so naïve, trusting Tate with this sick, plan. She sniffled. I analyzed her. She looked so unhappy and sullen.

"That hat doesn't look like you." I finally admitted. It was floppy and covered her face. Leah was the opposite of that. She was beautiful, so rarely sculpted and featured, and she loved to show off her perfection. But now, she covered it, her icy blue eyes concealed with dark sunglasses.

"It serves a purpose." Leah countered as she turned to me.

"Look. My hair is turning white, from fear. Yeah, I read on the internet that's possible." Leah displayed as she took off her hat, little stands of her coffee brown hair, white and famished. Then, she removed her sunglasses. And looked down, obviously thinking about something.

"Do you believe in the devil?" Leah questioned. My heart stopped. Sure she moped around now about shit but I never would believe she would fucking hail Satan. I didn't believe in God. If there was a God, I wouldn't be here. But I didn't believe in the devil either. I didn't know what to fucking believe anymore.

"No." I finally answered.

"I do. I've looked into his eyes." Leah said. I gazed into her eyes and saw pain and torture. She was fallen, broken_. I_ _broke her_. Leah finished her cigarette and reached into her pack for another one.

"Shit. Empty." She cursed. Her wobbly body got up to leave.

"Hey- if you- if you need anything you can contact me." I advised, my face stiff.

"I'll keep that in mind." Leah muttered as she hobbled out of the facility. My horrendous plan to defeat Leah worked. Or backfired. She was defeated, defeated as a human being. She lost the battle to herself, and turned into some sad lyric in a song. The plan utterly backfired.

**~At the Murder House~**

I came home to find Mom and Ben sitting at the dinner table, eating.

"Vi, you're just in time. Come sit down." Ben encouraged. No fucking way, eating was bad enough, but family dinners were the absolute worst.

"Not hungry." I replied.

"Violet." Ben slurred as he raised his eyebrows, as if I had said something wrong. What the fuck was his problem? I didn't feel in the mood to eat, so what? He couldn't _force me_ to stuff myself with shit, could he?

"Your mom's been telling me about your eating habits recently." Ben explained with dissatisfaction in his voice. Mom looked down at the ground, stabbing her fork into her pot roast and cutting it up into tiny bits, gobbling them up once at a time. Mom? Why would she complain about my own fucking habits? Did she think there was something wrong with me or some shit? I knew she was just worried about me, but why the fuck would she rant about what I eat or don't eat? Especially to Ben. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"Come, sit." Ben repeated strictly." I reluctantly fell into my chair and sagged in it. I began to pick up my fork, holding it as if I was about to stab someone, and poked at my pot roast, barely grazing over it. I rested my head on my hand which the table supported.

"So, where'd you got today Vi?" Mom questioned, attempting to change the subject.

"Nowhere." I muttered and huffed a deep sigh. This was fucking boring, worst than school. I wanted to escape this dreadful situation more than anything at the moment. My pathetic parents glared at me.

"What?" I scowled at their disturbed expressions. They always described me a delinquent, a "troubled teen". Please, they haven't experienced shit yet. At least I'm stronger than them. My dad was a lying cheat who kisses his wife's ass but fucks the maid behind closed doors. My mom was a weak little baby who couldn't stand up to herself and accept the fact that she's in deep shit, and is too naïve to understand that she's being tricked by Ben, ludicrously trying to mend their relationship. _No doubt, absolutely, pathetic._

"Violet, I do not appreciate your attitude." Ben uttered. Finally, his true side of parenting came out to play. I was intrigued to see where this grows, I decided to test him a bit, to tease him.

"Oh! I'm sorry? Did I _offend_ you? Because the only thing _offending me_ right now is you're sick, disgusting fucking _face_." I insulted, my face emotionless and my voice steady. Ben swallowed with glossy eyes. After four or five seconds of utter silence, Ben left the table to fetch a big bottle of wine. He poured some in his glass and gulped the whole thing immediately. At that moment, Mom decided to chime in,

"How was school Vi?" She questioned with a raspy voice.

"Boring, just like this conversation. Can I be done now?" I questioned, although my food was still untouched. Mom raised her eyebrows and glared at me. Ben finished his second glass of wine and offered mom some, but paused.

"No thanks Ben, remember, I'm not allowed." She declined. Ben's soulless face finally grinned and gave her a small peck on the cheek. What the fuck was this? Are they "in love" again or some shit? Mom is so fucking stupid, letting herself open up to Ben again. Am I the only intelligent person in the fucking household?

"Your dad is leaving for Boston tomorrow to see a patient." Mom informed. _To see a patient, or to fuck a patient? _I raised my eyebrows at her and she shrugged, finishing her helping of pot roast. Ben had already finished his and took his plate and mom's plate to the sink.

"By the way, Violet, you're excused." Ben said, taking my plate as well.

"Finally." I muttered, trudging to my room. I was fucking exhausted, and confused. Why didn't mom want to drink wine? For as long as I remember, whenever Ben drank some wine, she drank too. Unless… No. It couldn't be. Was she pregnant? Could she be that dimwitted, to give herself to Ben again? He's in control now. Now he can do any shit he wants, and she will support it, even going to Boston to probably hookup with 20 year olds again, for fucks sake. I fell into my bed, my mind tangling and my anxiety increasing higher and higher. I wish I could just escape this chaos. Forever. I closed my eyes and my visions occurred. Screams and wails of smoldering children penetrated my thoughts. Blood baths and haunting memories erupted each breath I took. Cackles of shrieking mutations lurked in the dark. How unpleasant that I had to experience these realities of phobias each night. I've had visions for as long as I can remember, ever since I was a little girl. Finally, after what seemed like forever, something snapped and pierced the mask of my fears. I was asleep, in a dream. Or a nightmare. Tate appeared and held my hand, he looked sorrowfully down at the ground. We walked down this path, the ground concrete and rough. As we walked, hand in hand, loud voices boomed all around us.

"You're nothings!"

"Worthless!"

"Nobody will ever love people like you!"

"You're monsters!"

"Freaks!"

"Fucking kill yourself!"

"No one will care!"

The voices chanted. In reality, I'm much stronger, I wouldn't feel too much if someone said that, but in the dream, I found myself sobbing. Hot tears splashed down my cheeks, raining down from my eyes. I wailed, crying my very heart out. Tate hugged me, the sweet warmth of his embrace brought a smile to my face. I looked up at him and he gave me a genuine smile, beads of tears trailing down his face. I realized he wasn't a monster. Not at all. I misunderstood him, just like everyone else does to people like us. How could I be so blind? We were the same, yet opposites. He was twisted and dark, and I was broken and light, yet we attract to each other. He wished to be good, I know it. Maybe this is some fucking cliché, a joke. Maybe we were written in the stars. Maybe we were doomed together. Maybe we could save each other. Maybe. We were walking travesties, compatible to each other, mended by our similarities and differences. A fusion of miserable affection. I reminisced all of the times he had made me smile, made me feel as if I wasn't worthless. He was psychotic, a deranged mind who's intentions were to protect the ones he loved. After all,

"If you love someone you should never hurt them… Never." His voice panged through my ears as I awoke with a start. The security alarm blared and I sprang out of bed, dashing out of my room. At that moment, I thought of Tate, and how I ever so wished to apologize to him. I wanted to tell him all the crazy shit that's been going on, and how I wished he were with me right now in my time of panic. I ran to my parent's room as Mom frantically zoomed down the stairs. She then rushed back upstairs and picked up her cell phone.

"Hello, 911, someone broke into my house… Yes… Yes… No, my daughter is here, my husband is searching for the intruder… Yes…Yes… Thank you." Mom said into the phone. We stepped into my room and waited for Ben to come upstairs. If someone kills us tonight, I'd regret it more than ever because I would have fucking never seen Tate again. We finally heard footsteps outside the door. Mom peeked into a crack of the door and sighed.

"It's dad." She whispered. Mom opened the door and walked outside toward Ben.

"The police are on their way." She calmly declared.

"It's fine, it was only Addie." Ben replied, sounding tired. I finally fucking breathed and jumped into my bed, a wave of relief washing over me.

**~The next day~**

Ben left in the morning so I didn't see him leave. Goody. Mom was making breakfast as I came downstairs, prepared to go to school. I sat at the table as she cooked.

"Don't we have a maid for that?" I questioned.

"I like to cook sometimes, it's the least I can do after Moira made that delicious pot roast last night, the one _you didn't even eat_." Mom said. I rolled my eyes. The bitch was pissing me off purpose. Ha.

"Do you know why Tate isn't arriving for his appointments with dad?" I asked mom curiously.

"You mean that weird kid with the blonde hair?" Mom replied. I nodded.

"Your father canceled is appointments for some reason." She continued. My heart dropped. Why the fuck would he do that? This was my last chance of seeing him. I relied on his appointments. In my mind I was creating a mess, pulling out my hair, but in physical form, I just stood there, nodding.

"Well, I got to go, bye." I announced and stepped out the door.

**~School~**

After 5th period, I headed to my locker, rummaging around for my lighter so I could smoke before lunch. A clique of girls chatted behind me.

"Where's Leah? I haven't seen her much! Is she sick?" One girl asked eagerly with concern.

"Actually, I heard she's homeschooled now. It's sort of the new trend." Another girl answered casually.

"She is so ambitious." The other girl exclaimed.

"I know right? I was thinking of doing the same thing! Homeschooling is basically like school, but at the comfort of your own home, plus, you can be in your cute pajamas _and_ maybe even have classes with your friends together instead of a nasty schedule!" Another girl squealed. I scoffed at their foolishness. They don't know shit. I grabbed my lighter and stuffed it in my bag. I decided to sit on the deserted bleachers above the track field of the school this time and sketched picture of a bird, which looked pretty damn realistic in my opinion.

"What's _she_ doing here?" A jock asked as a bunch of his douche bag friends trailed behind him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I scoffed, and put my sketchbook in my bag, getting ready to leave.

"Woah, slow down, new girl." The jock said, rubbing his hands together. What a cocky jackass.

"Why don't you and your girlfriends here let me through?" I questioned gingerly. The jock raised his eyebrows.

"What did you do to Leah?" The jock asked. So this must be Leah's gigolo boyfriend.

"I didn't do shit." I replied.

"Come on you little fuck up, we all know you did something to her. She's not answering my calls, nothing. Last time I saw her, she said she was going to your house." The jock protested.

"Get the fuck away from me." I ordered. I was royally pissed at them now. I fled down the bleachers, hoping I wouldn't trip. _Dipshits. _So that's what it's like to have people who care about you when you isolate yourself from the world.

I walked home, thinking of Tate. Where he was right now; and was he thinking of me too? A debate occurred in my mind. I stepped into the house and escaped to my room. I turned on The Ramones to full volume and laid my homework on my bed, although I did not plan on doing it.

"Turn down the volume!" Mom ordered from downstairs. I rolled my eyes and turned it down. Scanning my bookshelf, deciding what to read, I found _The_ _Stranger_ by _Albert Camus. _I lay on my bed and read, floating in paradise. Mom rudely interrupted my joy my knocking on the door. I looked up from my book. Can't I have one second of peace?

"I turned it down. What do you want?" I scowled.

"Can I come in?" She asked. I reluctantly got up from my bed and opened the door. What the hell was her problem now? She stood there, like a girl scout, holding a plate with a chocolate cupcake in both hands.

"Hi. Our kooky neighbor made you cupcakes." She greeted. Constance was kooky, that's for damn sure. I looked at the cupcake to find a violet on the top. Haha. Very fucking funny.

"Huh. A candied violet. That's clever." I said with sarcasm. I plopped on my bed and picked up my book again. Mom stepped into the room.

"Want to watch a movie? I figured since your dad's gone tonight, we can have a little girl's night." Mom asked as she placed he plate on my nightstand. Why was she bull shitting me? Does she think I'm a fucking idiot?

"Yeah, no thanks." I replied.

"Thought it might be fun to hang out." Mom wondered, sitting on my bed. I loved her, and liked talking to her, but she just seemed so pathetic to me at the moment. She was a fake, like everyone else. A naive little blind schoolgirl who will fuck her rapist. That's what I saw her as. And to think I thought she was being brave. Coward. I made up an excuse so I wouldn't have to have these thoughts on my mind any longer.

"Can't, homework." I implied.

"Are you mad at me about something?" She asked. Fuck, it must be her mom senses or some shit. It was time for her to come clean, no more bull shit. I've fucking had enough. I grabbed the cupcake plate and moved it toward her.

"Why don't you eat it? Since you're eating for two now. What. You think I'm stupid? You stopped drinking wine at dinner, and your gaining weight in your face." I said. She sheepishly smiled.

"I was gonna tell you tonight." Mom admitted.

"You know the statistics, when you have a baby over 40." I informed, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah, I do." She replied, nodding.

"You wanna talk about it?" Mom questioned. Talk about it? There's nothing to talk about. No fucking thing.

"No thanks, I'm good." I returned to my book. Mom got up to leave. Finally, peace, at las- Mom was a fucking retard. Kissing Ben's ass, trying to fix their relationship. What bullshit. The baby? I could tell the baby its purpose in life was to help its dimwitted parent's relationship which obviously was going to fail in the end.

"Having a baby isn't going to keep you and Dad together, if that's what you're thinking." I declared. Mom threw her hands in the air.

"Wow, Violet. I am _really_ appreciating your optimism on this. Really am." Mom exclaimed in a sarcastic tone.

"Come on, go ahead, say all your mean things." Mom encouraged. After everything I thought about her, everything that was on my mind, I put in one sentence that described my feelings towards the women I called mother.

"I think you're weak." I admitted my face stiff. Mom slowly nodded her head.

"Okay." She whispered, leaving the room. She shut the door behind her rather aggressively. I immediately grabbed the cupcake plate and put it in front of my door. I don't want that cliché piece of shit. I returned to my book.

**~20 minutes later~**

Mom was probably watching some cheap horror movie in the other room. A _Carina Round_ song was playing in the background as I read my book. The doorbell chimed. Must be Constance or some shit. I ignorantly decided for mom to get the door and returned to my book. The doorbell chimed once more. For fucks sake, get the damn door. There was a consistent loud banging on the door that even I could hear from all the way upstairs. This fucking ruckus was hurting my head. Why did there need to always be an interruption?

"Violet! Violet! Answer me!" Mom yelled. What the hell was her deal? I just wanted some peace goddammit. I legitimately tried to keep my cool as I arrived to mom's muster. Was she really that desperate? Or did dad cheat on her again?

"How am I supposed to finish my homework if you keep interrupting?" I complained. Mom looked scared. Frightened, almost.

"What's the matter?" I questioned.

"Where's your phone?" Mom asked in a concerned frenzy.

"In my bag upstairs." I answered, confused.

"Go, go, go, go, get it. Dial 911." Mom ordered. The doorbell rang once more. Shit, was tonight a horror movie scene or something? My stomach rumbled with anxiety. Was someone trying to kill us?

"Who's that?" I questioned, fear accentuating my voice.

"Just go into your room, lock the door, don't come out until I tell you… now!" Mom pleaded. What the fuck was happening? I ran upstairs into my room. I obeyed mom and locked the door. My hands trembling, I scoured in my bag for my cell phone, Then emptied my bag, still rummaging around for it. It wasn't there. Then, everything went black.

"I woke up, tied to a chair, next to mom. 3 people stood in front of us with black masks on.

"I have money. Please, just take anything." Mom wailed. I felt like I was going to faint. Again. What was this?

"We're not here to rob you." A female voice explained behind the mask.

"Masks off." The same voice said. All three took off their masks, their faces visible to the eye. One was rather pretty, yet looked angry all the time. She had dull red hair and looked like the leader of the group. The other female had long messy blonde hair, and her eyes were big and dopey. The only male of the group had weird sharp teeth and a rough smoky voice.

"The transcript was very clear. The nurses say R. Franklin; he had nothing to hide." The redhead stated. She looked at her watch,

"12 minutes." The redhead said.

"Then the fun begins." The dopey-eyed woman sang.

"I have a surprise for you guys." The redhead said, grinning. I looked at mom cautiously. The redheaded woman fetched a white blanket and unwrapped it. A colorful bowl was uncovered. The man smiled.

"No way." He exclaimed.

"I got it on eBay. Authenticated. It's the one he used to bash Maria." The redheaded woman explained. The man looked at the bowl like it was the first time he ever saw boobs.

"Let me see it." He begged. The man cautiously grabbed it and examined the small bowl.

"Holy shit. Can feel the energy in this. This is bitchin'." The man squealed. The redhead rolled her eyes.

"Who goes first?" The dopey-eyed woman asked. Mom looked like she was going to cry. The redhead and the man got out knives.

"Which one is Gladys?" The dopey-eyed woman questioned with a sly smile. The red head pointed her knife at me. My heart stopped and my stomach curled and tightened. The dopey-eyed woman threw some white clothing shit at me. Hell no, I wasn't going to dress in this shit.

"Screw you, psycho! I'm not putting this on!" I shouted, throwing the clothes back.

"You have to. Everything has to be perfect." The dopey-eyed woman ordered in a crazed lunatic voice that was creepy as fuck. The man pounced at me,

"Take your clothes off!" He screamed as he tore my shirt halfway off, my bra showing.

"No!" I yelled. Mom screamed in horror as he did so.

"Put it on me!" Mom sacrificed with tears in her eyes.

"Oh, you'll both be wearing uniforms. R. Franklin hated nurses. He had a bad experience with the mercury in a broken thermometer. That's why he took Gladys upstairs and drowned her in the tub. And you Maria- he saved you for last." The redhead explained.

"R. Franklin was the first. Before Manson. He changed the culture. We're paying tribute to him." The dopey-eyed girl said with hope in her voice.

"We're not going to be a part of your reenactment." Mom said, shaking her head calmly. The redhead dropped the nurse clothes at me once more.

"Put this on. You won't like it if I have to make you." The redheaded woman ordered. I was free of rope, and needed to generate an escape plan quickly in my mind. I fumbled with the nurse clothes awhile, and then used my head to bash the redhead's forehead, causing her to fall over. I dashed, and ran as fast as I could to Ben's office, until I felt someone grab me and pulled me into a corner. I screamed in fear until I realized who it was. It was Tate. He pressed me against the wall. What the fuck was he doing here? Whatever the reason was, I was so fucking glad he _was_ here. I wanted to apologize to hug him, maybe even kiss him, but it wasn't the time. I held on to his sweater, my hands clinging to his waist.

"Tate, they're trying to kill me and my mom!" I hesitantly exclaimed with a hushed voice.

"You have to get them to the basement." He ordered in a soft voice. God, I loved seeing his amazing face again.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I rapidly spat, remembering the incident with Leah.

"The basement! Just do it!" He quickly said, and stepped back." The redheaded woman found me and threw me out of the room. They dragged me upstairs to the bathroom, and I changed into the nurse's outfit in fear, although on the outside, I was emotionless. The man stayed downstairs with mom. I hoped she was alright. The basement, the basement. How the fuck do I get them down there? Their reenactment. It was everything to them. It had to be perfect. I quickly improvised a plan in my head. After I finished changing, I was convinced it might work. I grabbed the nurse socks and started putting them on as the bath water filled the tub.

"What's taking you so long?" The redheaded woman asked cruelly.

"So, are these vintage?" I questioned, trying to get to the conversation of my plan.

"Nurses' catalogue." The redhead answered casually. The dopey-eyed woman came into the bathroom eating some shit. It was the cupcake Constance made for me.

"Really? You're eating?" The redhead strictly questioned.

"It was like, sitting there, saying, "Eat me."" The dopey-eyed woman answered, her mouth full of cupcake. The redhead's face was angry and full of heat. She turned to me.

"Step on it! Time's a-wastin', sister!" The redheaded woman screamed to me. The whole time, I was thinking about Mom, what was happening to her? I was supposed to be drowned, what happened to her? R. Franklin saved Maria for last. Was he going to rape her? I shivered at the thought.

"Tell me what's going on downstairs." I ordered. They fucking ignored me.

"Did you get all the cell phones?" The redhead asked. They stole my phone. Bitches.

"Yeah, I told you, the one in the kitchen and… Ooh, stomachache." The dopey-eyed woman slurred as her stomach growled furiously.

"Answer me! What's he doing to my mother?" I repeated, yelling this time.

"Jesus, I'm gonna shit myself." The dopey-eyed woman whined.

"Not in the staging area!" The redheaded woman yelled.

"Just, don't start without me." The dopey-eyed woman pleaded as she slowly stepped out of the door. The redhead was distracted. I bolted passed her, but she caught me, pointing a knife at my neck.

"Are you kidding me?" The redheaded woman questioned, eyebrows raised. She checked her watch.

"It's 10:57. Get in the tub." She ordered. This was my chance. My chance to execute my plan. The redhead grabbed my arm and forced me into the bathtub, the water cool against my skin. I stood in there, waiting to speak as the redhead yelled out the door,

"Bianca, it's almost time!" She turned back to me.

"You have to put someone under water for three minutes until they lose consciousness. The brain begins to die from oxygen deprivation." The redheaded woman explained. I had enough of her bull shit, I wanted to get her in the basement. I was losing time. I laughed merrily, seeing the confusion and suspicion in her face.

"This is funny to you?" The woman asked.

"What's funny is how you think you know everything about this house, and clearly you know nothing. This isn't even the right tub." I stated, a goofy smile plastered on my face.

"Second floor bathroom. I-I studied the crime scene photos." She protested.

"The one he used is in the basement. We totally remodeled this bathroom." I explained, looking around the dull white restroom.

"You think I'm gonna fall for that?" The woman asked aggressively. I had to convince her, I just had to.

"It's a grimy claw-foot tub with a chrome faucet. Go look." I improvised. The redhead sighed and stepped out the door.

"Bianca?!" The redhead shouted. Bingo. I tricked her. She grabbed my arm and dragged it, I got out of the tub.

"Come on, lead me." The woman ordered, poking a knife to my back. I opened the basement door and turned on the lights. We stepped down the creaky stairs as she kept threatening to poke my back with her dagger. I winced as she almost did. We finally got to the basement floor.

"You'd better not be messing with me." She said, looking around.

"It's down here, around the corner." I explained calmly. The lights flickered off and the woman screamed,

"Where are you?" I felt wrinkly hands hold my shoulders, bringing me into a corner. It was the maid, Moira.

"Violet, you must get your mother and run away from this house. Run away as far as you can. Tate will take care of it." Moira explained, desperate and quick.

"You know Tate?" I questioned.

"Run Violet, run." Moira repeated. I nodded and ran upstairs. I opened the door and saw mom running towards me.

"Violet!" She screamed with relief. We both ran out the door, past Constance's house, bolting through the neighborhood.

"Help! Somebody help us! Call the police! Help!" Mom screamed as we ran into the darkness of the night.

**~The next day~**

The police showed up at our house the next day, interrogating and inspecting the situation. Mom and Ben were talking to the interrogators as I walked down the stairs, into the dining room where they both sat. Ben walked up toward me.

"Violet, your mom said that you told her that Tate helped you escape?" Ben questioned calmly.

"Yeah. Thanks for not dragging him into all that."I replied. Tate saved our lives. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be here. I was so fortunate he was there. I think I, maybe, just maybe, had feelings for him. I liked him, ok fine I'll admit. He was always there for me, to protect me. Unlike Ben, that fucker, who was never there for his family. That fucking fake. Mom was kickass, strong. She wasn't weak, she was in control. Mom showed me that last night. In the police station, she told me that Ben was a dick, and he wasn't there for us anymore. She was calling the shots now. I'm fucking proud of her. I hope it stays that way.

"What was he doing in the house?" Ben asked suspiciously. I shrugged.

"How should I know? I said.

"Violet…" Ben replied. _Classic._ He thinks I did it. That I broke the fucking rules and let him in. Asshole.

"You think I let him in? I don't know why Tate was here, but I'm glad he was. You weren't." I admitted. It was true. Screw Ben. I wanted to find Tate. I started to leave the room as Ben stood there, his face full of sorrow. I turned on my heel, and decided to tell mom what she deserved, right in Ben's fucking face.

"You were really brave, Mom." I told her. She smiled gingerly. I looked at Ben and his disappointed expression. Ha. He deserves this shit. I stepped back into my room to find Tate sitting on my bed.

"Tate… How'd you get here?" I questioned.

"I snuck in, I wanted to see how you were doing." Tate explained, softly grinning. I smiled back and sat on the bed next to him.

"I'm sorry Tate. I-I guess I was just, freaked out with all that shit that happened with Leah and the basement and all." I apologized, looking at him.

"What were you doing in my house last night?" I finally asked, hoping that his answer was to see me.

"I was at your house last night because I wanted to apologize of what happened in the basement, and I heard screaming, and the door was unlocked so I decided to see what was happening." Tate admitted. He stared back at me. We gazed at each other for what seemed like fucking forever.

"I-I want to thank you. If you weren't there, me and my mom might be dead." I said. He grinned. Our fingers entangled as we held hands. I rested my head on his shoulder and I knew, right now, this was where I wanted to be.

**AN:** **And that's the end of Chapter 3! I hope you like it guys ^_^ Please leave reviews, each one counts! I'm not posting Chapter 4 until I get enough! Next chapter will for sure have a lot more of Violate, so be ready for that. I'm doing my best to try to make their relationship right now not as cliché. I'll try to post next week! REMEMBER TO LEAVE REVIEWS, I REALLY APPRECIATE THEM AND I LOOVE YEW GUYSS!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: ****Hey guys, I missed you. I'm sorry about the chapter delay, as I'm writing this, I'm in the middle of different exams and stuff so I've been preoccupied lately. This chapter will be episode 3, "Murder House", and episode 4, "Halloween p.1" because episode 3 only has 2 scenes with Violet in them. There definitely will be all the Violate in this so yay! I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave a review, I won't post chapter 5 until I get enough. Love you guys!**

Chapter 4

Thank the fucking lord I don't have to go to school today. Ben told me I could stay home today because of the break-in fiasco that happened. They say that the three invaders were obsessed with famous murders and all that shit. I'm glad they're gone, but where did they go? I wonder what Tate did to them. Maybe he "scared" them again. At least they deserved it. I randomly threw on a sweater and some dark plum tights. I had the day to myself, there was plenty of unnecessary shit to do. The only downside is that I don't know if Tate is coming back. After all, his sessions with Ben are canceled. Last time I saw him, He noted he might be back. Might. This was so immature and childish. Huh. It was a stupid little girl fantasy crush I was experiencing. That's all, nothing much. I analyzed my vast bookshelf, grazing my fingertips softly over each spine of each novel. I finally selected _The Bell Jar _by _Sylvia Plath. _Although I've read this millions of times, it only seemed appropriate since I had no fucking thing to do, and at least the book could entertain me a bit. I turned on my iPod to full blast and _Wonder boy_ by _The Kinks_ started playing. I sagged into my bed, my posture horrible as always, reading and listening.

After a few hours of listening to _The Kinks _and _The Ramones _I heard a loud thumping on my window. Cautiously, I opened my wretched blinds and looked out. There he was, Tate, standing there with a big fucking goofy grin on his face. I smiled back eagerly. I couldn't help it, I probably looked like Rapunzel or some shit, 'waiting for her prince to save her'. _Ugh, Give me a break._ Although my dad was distraught at Tate for some reason and wouldn't like Tate in the house, I let Tate in anyways because 'fuck parent's policies'. I knew Ben was having a session with some woman and Mom was in the garden so I basically had the whole house to myself. Tate slowly entered my room, shutting the door behind him.

"Hey." I greeted.

"Why are you here and not at school? Did you go today?" Tate questioned.

"No, my mom let me stay home." I replied, sitting on the floor. Tate sat across from me and said,

"I like your mom. She's nice. Your dad-"

"Is an asshole? Yeah, I already knew that." I interrupted, fiddling with my hands.

"I was going to say that he was nice too. It's not every day you have someone who looks out for you, and cares about you." Tate explained with sentiment in his voice, yet his tone gruff and squirmy.

"Ben doesn't care. He's not there for me when I need him the most. He doesn't give a rat's ass about this family." I replied quietly.

"The reason he ended his sessions with me is because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He cares Violet. Maybe he's not there for you, but he cares." Tate persisted. I thought about this for a moment. Tate's face was genuine and soft. He seemed like he wasn't kidding. I hated Ben because he cheated on my mom, he betrayed the family. I didn't trust him, I didn't like him. Sure, maybe he was sorry. Yet, he was sorry about the miscarriage, and how did that turn out? Sometimes I wonder if the demons in my visions at night are Ben, but no, they're me. I always ask myself, where do I stand in this parade of disaster? Am I the moody teenage dirt bag? Am I the victim in this story? Or am I just watching on the sidelines as life goes by? Maybe I'm the villain. I have to accept that Ben is not going to change in any way; he's torn with who he is, and who he wants to be. No, I don't forgive him. But I can never let go of him, no matter how lost I am.

"Tate, why are you seeing my dad?" I finally asked.

"You already know." Tate replied with a sullen, insecure tone.

"I mean, why do you need to go to him in the first place? Is it because of your dad leaving?" I beckoned. Tate sighed and I immediately regretted asking him. He looked so unsure and anxious. _Shit. _Finally I found someone and I'm probably going to lose them due to my big fucking blabber mouth. Just great.

"My mom. She's the reason. She's the real one who doesn't care. She says I'm supposed to be her perfect goddamn son. All she cares about is impression, appearance. Not once has she cared for me. Not fucking once. She treats her kids like tools. Tools she can manipulate." He explained, his face emotionless, looking at the ground. I realized I haven't actually breathed the whole time he talked about his mom. I huffed a deep breath and moved closer to him..

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." I apologized. Tate has it worst than me. Way worse.

"No, don't apologize. You understand, don't you? You know what it's like, to feel like you can't do shit right. To feel like you've failed in existing." Tate said his voice clearer and less ambiguous. I slowly nodded my head and gazed at his limitless pool of supple chocolate brown eyes. He was fucking perfect. No single flaw on his face could be detected.

"Sometimes, I feel like the problems we have will go away, like we'll finally be able to actually live again. But it always fucking comes back to haunt you, like a prison you can't escape, an infinite sea that your drowning in and you can never swim away from, like you can't do shit to solve your problems." I admitted.

"That's why I see your dad. My mom wants me to escape my problems, but like you said, there's this 'infinite sea' I'm drowning in. My mom's the sea, and I'm the helpless dying fish." Tate explained in a hushed undertone.

"Is that why you hurt yourself? You mutilate yourself? Because you're stuck in the prison?" Tate questioned with a crackly voice as sorrow and pain replenished his attitude. I've asked myself this question several times, more than I can imagine. I know the answer.

"I cut because-because I've been trapped in this hellhole of a planet for so long, I don't feel real anymore. I need to see my own blood to know I'm real. I need to feel pain to know I'm alive. I can't keep up with the world around me, and once I catch up, I go insane. I need to let the insanity out. All these emotions hidden behind an emotionless mask, I free myself from the craziness and the lunacy. I let it out, and the pain soon becomes numb. It becomes a distraction of all the bullshit occurring." I confessed. I was too busy blabbering on about my trashy explanation for self-harm, I didn't notice Tate had stood up. I imitated him by standing up too. I never noticed how tall he was. I was about 5'4, and he was like 5'10. I liked being shorter than him, It made me feel protected and safe. I averted my eyes to his face as tears streamed down his porcelain cheeks. He wasn't those cringe-worthy ugly criers; his face was sad and stiff as the tears rolled down like marbles, one by one.

"Tate…" I muttered.

"Violet-"He said as Tate swiftly pulled me towards him. We embraced, my face snuffling into his shoulder. His arms concealed around me, making me feel secure. I think I was falling in love with Tate, I really was. He seemed like the only person who knew what I was going through, and I seemed to be the only person to know what he was going through too. For fucks sake, why can't I control my emotions? This isn't some miracle, some fairytale! I'm going to end up falling for someone who doesn't love me back. Then I'll be alone, again. Feelings are such a waste of time. _Goddammit, emotions, stop it! _I wish love was never invented. Such a shit show this was, such a cliché. I feel like I've been zapped into a sappy romance novel. I broke off the hug and Tate wiped his final tear with his baggy sleeve.

"Wanna do something?" Tate questioned, his voice more positive and optimistic.

"Sure." I replied. Tate grinned with is cute ass dimples again. I softly smiled back.

"Wait here." Tate eagerly ordered. I nodded. He exited the room. After a minute went by, Tate came back with a _Scrabbles_ board. We sat on the floor and played _Scrabbles _for about an hour.

"How's school going?" Tate asked.

"I hate it there. All full of dipshits and assholes. Especially Leah's boyfriend. He keeps following me around, taunting me. He won't fuck off."

"Why don't you just not go?" Tate questioned.

"My mom. She wants me to go to school, get a good education, have a good life. I wish I could just leave this place, run away." I explained.

"Why would you want to run away?" Tate asked.

"Because this goddamn place is making me crazy. Trust me, I like this house. But, maybe if I ran away, I could escape all the bullshit." I chuckled, thinking in my mind, _Maybe you and me could run away together._ Please, who would want to spend they're sorry lives with me? But then again, what if Tate and I did run away together, never looking back? Would I finally be happy?

"If you ran away, then I would never see you again." Tate replied sourly, looking down at the ground.

"What the hell does that mean? You could come with me, leave your mom." I encouraged. He shook his head.

"I have to take care of my brother and sister. I can't leave them." He explained. I nodded with understanding.

"I guess it's just me then." I whispered. There's a fucking time bomb in me, ticking. I have a craving to escape my life, I hate my life. I've been five days clean, Tate helped me accomplish that, but all I can do is think about cutting. Because right now, that's my escape. I want to run away.

"Do you ever think about ending it? Ending everything? Like you feel like that's your only option?" I asked unobtrusively.

"Do you?" He replied.

"Sometimes. But, I never seriously considered it." I answered. I'm so fucking stupid. Why am I telling him all of my sob stories and sad shit? Why would I ever consider the fact he cares? Am I just some wounded dove to him?

"I think about it all the time. I want to go somewhere where there's no reason to fall apart. No reason to break. Somewhere clean. Of course that's all a myth." Tate admitted, his voice crimson smooth with negative desire emphasized.

"Last time I met Leah, she asked me if I believed in the devil. Do you?" I questioned.

"Hard to say. Depends on what her purpose for asking was." Tate answered rapidly, like he was trying to change the subject of the conversation.

"Let's go outside. It's getting to depressing here." I suggested.

"I never knew you were an outdoor person." Tate chuckled as he put away the _Scrabbles _board.

"Like you're any different." I teased. Tate laughed. I grabbed my pack of Marlboro cigs and stuffed it in my pocket, grabbing my lighter as well.

"Ah!" Tate screamed behind me, causing me to subliminally jump.

"Shithead!" I yelled at him, laughing. Tate held my hands, and leaned his forehead against mine.

"Violet…" He slurred.

"Tate…" I imitated. He softly chortled and backed away, sitting on my bed. I walked over to him.

"What the hell do you want to say? I don't have all day." I teased.

"Violet, I really like you. A lot." He admitted. My heart erupted. Did he feel all the shitty feelings I had too? My mind was working like a treadmill. Anarchy and chaos filled my head. Did Tate like me back? By the sound of it, maybe so. I decided to be honest with him.

"I like you too." I replied. A big goofy smile plastered on Tate's face, his dimples wide and sharp. I smiled back. This instantly made everything better. For the moment, at least.

"Hope my dad doesn't bust us, my mom doesn't care though." I said quietly as we walked out the kitchen door to our front porch where we both sat ourselves at a brick column. I could see mom watering her cheap shitty flowers in the distance. I put a cigarette to my mouth and lighted it up, inhaling and exhaling. A glossy black bus filled with people stopped at our house. The bus said "**_Eternal Darkness Tour"_** on the side of it. The bus moved at a slow pace, and a big man in glasses with a voice that sounded like a cartoon character stood up with a microphone in his hands.

"And our next stop on our tour of departed souls, the gem of mid-town: _Murder House_." The man announced, the bus coming to a complete stop. Several of the people in the seats gazed at the house in fascination, some even took pictures.

"It's a shock that they chose a fat ass like him for the 'Eternal Darkness Tour', because he just looks _so_ damn scary." I sarcastically joked. Tate chuckled. I inhaled my cig once more, watching the smoke slowly entangle into the wind until it vanished. There was a nearby clatter and a wrap of sudden hesitation shot me in the head as Tate hid in the bushes. I rapidly put out my cigarette, hoping my breath wasn't too strong with the scent. Ben carried a blue bucket as he walked towards me, humming some shitty tune. His face was dull and serious. I leaned back on the rough, grainy brick wall, praying that Tate wouldn't move so Ben wouldn't catch us. He sniffed the air and my stomach dropped. _Busted._

"Relax, I'm not here to bust you." Ben explained calmly and softly, as if I was his patient or some shit. Ben hated me smoking, what the fuck was this? Why was he acting so damn nice all of a sudden?

"Why not?" I questioned suspiciously.

"Because what you guys went through last week can haunt you for a long time." He replied, his tone gentle and comforting. _So this is what the shrink is doing._ _He's trying to make up for not being there for me. Please, I don't need the faux sentiment._

"Seriously Dad, I'm fine. It'll make a great college essay one day." I claimed. I always fucking used the whole "college" excuse with him. I've had straight A's every year, except this one. Of course my dad has high expectations for me in college; it'll probably be the happiest moment of his life. Its fun to play with him, tell him something he likes, to dilute his mind from any negative thoughts about me. The daughter tricking the psychologist. What a fucking knock-off. Hell, its 2011, they'll let anyone into college these days. Ben grinned and seemed satisfied. _How gullible._

"Ok. But if you ever want to talk to somebody…" Ben suggested.

"Dad-"I interrupted.

"I mean, not me. You know, I'm way too expensive." Ben joked. His jokes were becoming lamer and lamer. I smiled for his approval; hopefully this was the end of our conversation.

"But we can find you someone." Ben said. Does he think I need therapy or some shit? Seriously, I'm not fucking Lisa from _Girl Interrupted._

"Okay, thanks. I'll think about it." I replied. _Don't get your hopes up._ He nodded and left. After a few seconds, Tate peeked over the brick wall to see if he was gone, and returned to his position across from me.

"He's a great dad. He really cares. You're lucky like that." Tate said. I grabbed another cigarette and put it to my lips, leaning towards Tate. He lighted me up, the taint of fire dancing from the lighter. I inhaled and exhaled the heavy simmering smoke. He smiled, and I couldn't help but grin back.

**~ A few days later~**

"Violet, get in the car." Mom ordered.

"Where are we going anyways? Why can't dad come with you?" I complained, shutting the car door, sitting beside mom.

"We are going to find a temporary home." Mom announced." Finding a temporary home? What the fuck does that mean?

"Temporary?" I asked, angry and confused.

"We're moving out of the house, starting over, after that _terrible _break-in." Mom explained, enunciating the word "terrible". Is she fucking kidding me? Unfair is an understatement for this situation. How can you start over again when there's nothing to start over? When Mom said she would be in control, I didn't think she would mean _that_ way. My current sanity rippled. How the hell did this break-in cause mom to think it's the house's fault? I stared out the window in bottled frustration, looking at nothing but buildings, roads and cars, building, roads, and cars. _How dare she. _Our house is the only thing that satisfies me in this atrocious place. Tate was always around, spirits of the dead lingered in the hallways, dark and ghastly bolts from the blue were around every corner. Dips and drops every which way, living in the house was like riding on an anticipating roller coaster.

"You're never going to escape it, are you?" I questioned sourly.

"Escape what?" Mom groaned, realizing I was about to state my "cruel" opinions again.

"You think that moving out of Boston was going to solve you and dad's relationship. You wanted to escape his betrayal didn't you? Obviously, your attempt at fleeing away hasn't succeeded. Now you're going to leave again because of a traumatic experience instead of facing your fears? _Bullshit._ You're just going to keep and running and running away into infinity because you can't escape. _Stop having hope that you can_. You're going to be caged in your destruction for eternity. You can't run away, because that imaginary black cloud will _always_ be over your head. Stop running, you won't escape." I spat with passion. Mom huffed and squirmed in her driver seat. I, on the other hand, was stiff and sat tensely.

"Violet, I'm not being selfish and doing this just for me, I'm doing this for everyone…" Mom calmly claimed.

"I never said you were selfish. But now you mention it-"I replied.

"Violet, we are _not_ going to argue over this. My decision is final." Mom declared firmly. I slouched in my seat, and looked out the window again. Anger bubbled and boiled in my stomach, ready to fucking burst out of my big blabber mouth. As if she had read my mind, mom strictly ordered,

"We aren't going to speak of this nonsense again." I rolled my eyes. For fucks sake woman, why can't she make sense for once? We arrived at the show home and got out of the car. The humid California air coated the scenery as the blaring sun blinded our eyes. Mom strutted up to the show home, her rusty dusk purse dangling from her wrist like those snooty couture ladies. The house was full of cheap show home shit. A woman with an exotic colorful crop top and a big fucking fake tan toured with us around the house. There was nothing special about that hell hole. After the tedious tour around the small house, we walked out of the house and the woman told us the price; which was way under our budget. Mom seemed utterly content. I, on the other hand, was completely the opposite.

"Anyways, so I mentioned on the phone that the carpet will be steamed before move-in." The woman explained, opening the door to the house once more.

"There's a dock there for your iPod or iWhatever." The woman pointed to a small murky dock. Mom eagerly roamed around the room once more while I dragged my feet across it.

"I'll tell you what I do like; I like that security guy at the door…" Mom acknowledged. There had to be some way to persuade her to stay in the house.

"Excuse me. Can my mom and I have a moment? Alone?" I questioned with cool, collected eyes. This was a technique I learned to make people think you're normal.

"Sure. I'll be in the rental office." The woman accepted, setting her realtor clipboard on the oval glass table in the center of the dank, enclosed house.

"I've got someone else coming in 20 minutes." The woman added before closing the door.

"Glad we moved all the way to California, since we could be totally anywhere." I exclaimed in a sarcastic tone. Mom shrugged and said,

"I think it has a certain-"

"You and Dad, both of you- you don't deal with anything. The affair, the miscarriage. For most people that's just life and they deal. But you guys had to uproot everything- drag everyone across the country to start all over." I scorned with resentment in my voice.

"Honey, I don't think you've quite processed what happened to us in that house. That was devastating. That was a nightmare." Mom explained with dejection.

"This place is the nightmare. I love our house, it's got soul. It's where you and I kicked some ass, Mom. You say we were victims of something bad here, I say that's the place where we survived." I admitted. Hopefully, I was finally getting to her. I needed to pick that tiny, mindless, dumbfound brain of hers. My face was actually showing some real emotion for once. _Funny._ Hopefully that would do the trick.

"I love that you see it that way. I'm pregnant. I can't stay there. This is the decision that your father and I have made for our family together." Mom elucidated with fake optimism. _Bullshit._ This was all utter bullshit, every word that dropped out of her mouth.

"Yeah, whatever. But I'm telling you, go ahead with this whacked out plan, and I'm out of here. I will run away. And believe me, I know how to leave, so you will _never_ find me." I threatened calmly, the firmness in my vowels sharp as a dagger. I had to threaten, it's the only way. I can't believe I executed my whole "running away" cliché. As if things were bad enough. I needed some luck for once in my life, some actual providence. Mom looked astonished, eyebrows raised, with those tinted grainy forehead wrinkles coming out to play. I turned on my heel, shutting the door behind me, not even daring to look back.

**~A few days later~**

Halloween. What a torturous time of drama queens in skimpy skirts having the dignity to think that they're scary. Please, they think that _Chucky_ is the most frightening thing in the world. Sometimes I don't get them. Scratch that, I never fucking get them. October 31st is also the precious moments in a young horny teenager's life when they think that they're finally going to lose their virginity due to some "sexy" kitty cat costume. _What bullshit._ I remember when Ben would always dress me up in a "scary" costume to impress the neighbors, his friends on FaceBook, and basically anyone who gave a fuck about that cheesy appearance. I sauntered down the throng of students in the halls, passing by unknown faces that I didn't care to know. Although, there was one face I unfortunately knew, who was approaching towards me like an avalanche. Leah's gigolo boyfriend. He shoved and propelled several bystanders as he hurdled through the swarm of students. There was an angry weal on the center of his nose. It looked swelled and throbbing, like a Mr. Potato Head nose was attached to his face.

"You!" He howled in anger.

"What the fuck do you want now?" I asked sadistically.

"Explain _this_." Leah's boyfriend ridiculed as he pointed to the inflamed injury on his nose bridge.

"I had nothing to do with that." I denied.

"Oh really?" He questioned putting his hands in his jersey coat pockets. He slowly, yet firmly stalked around me, like a puma stalking its prey.

"Answer me this, last night I was with a couple of friends, having beer and celebrating at 12:00 because it was finally Halloween. Then this guy comes out of fucking _nowhere_ and punches me in the _fucking face_! At first we just thought he wanted our money, but no. After he finished beating my ass, you know what he said? You know what the fuck he said? He said; _'That was for Violet.'_" Leah's boyfriend fumed.

"I didn't have anything to do with that." I hesitated. I didn't tell anyone about Leah's boyfriend except Tate. I was sure of it. _For fucks sake_, I knew Tate just wanted to protect me, but this is just making it worse. Leah's boyfriend chuckled.

"I'm gonna make your life a living hell." He assured.

"We'll see about that." I snapped, and strode away. It was Halloween, I could have the whole fucking night to myself, listening to music and giving out shitty candy to kids. I didn't have time for this nonsense.

**~At home~**

I gawked at my house which was completely festooned with Halloween props and figures. Smoke machines, jack-o-lanterns, scarecrows and cornstalks were displayed. I walked up to Mom and Ben, who were admiring their adorned Halloween house.

"What's all this?" I asked, confused. My family never went this far to participate in Halloween.

"We're making the house look nice for potential buyers." Ben explained eagerly. He was dressed in a cheap vampire costume and smiled with pride as he showed off his shitty vampire teeth. Mom, on the other hand, was dressed casually as a witch, the sleek dark velvet dress made her look like Morticia Addams, and her pointy dramatic hat completed the look.

"You're still trying to sell the house?" I groaned with irritation in my voice.

"Yes Violet, in fact we are. Now I suggest _you_ should at least _try_ to help and dress up too." Mom replied.

"I'm too old for this bullshit." I murmured and got the hell out of that family-freak-show-fest.

It soon became dark outside and I roamed arbitrarily around my room to the beat of the music that was playing. I looked into the mirror, which was something I hardly did. The reflection of myself repulsed me to the very core, I almost shivered. When I was younger, kids would always call me ugly; I never thought I was one of those pretty girls that I saw in Mom's magazines. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and studied my facial features carelessly, wondering what the hell Tate saw in me. I also admired my miraculous _The Kinks_ shirt I sported, carelessly analyzing what I would look like without my long sleeve shirt I wore underneath to hide my scars. There was a crack of rustling coming from behind me and I cautiously turned around. There was something under my fucking bed. My heart was pounding, nonstop. I pulled my hair back and imprudently checked underneath until something grabbed my right ankle. Terror flowed through my veins as I shrieked and jumped back. I turned to look at my purposive "attacker". It was Adelaide. I should have fucking known, the brat comes lurking in the house all the time.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat." Adelaide sang merrily.

"Addy!" I scowled.

"I want to be a pretty girl for Halloween." Adelaide declared vigorously. My heart stopped. The poor bitch was just like me. It was impossible to be a pretty girl, believe me, I've tried. _Been there, done that._

"You want what?" I questioned.

"Make me a pretty girl like you, Violet." She pleaded. Flattered, my cheeks were decorated a faint ruby red. Was I someone's expectations of appearance? This had never happened before. Maybe Addy wasn't so bad after all. I smiled at her as she smiled back.

**~A few minutes later~**

_The Kinks _riffed in the background pleasantly as I dipped Mom's brush in the deep coral blue eye shadow once more, and applied in on Adelaide's eye lids.

"I'm actually not very good at this." I admitted, doing the best I can from what I saw most girls at school do.

"I'll like it." Addy assured as she gazed into the mirror in approval.

"Close your eyes." I ordered politely. The brush lathered her eyelids once more.

"How old are you Addy?" I questioned.

"A lady never reveals her age." She replied, holding her index finger in the air. I would have been crazy if I didn't think she was imitating Constance. I smirked.

"Is Tate your boyfriend?" She questioned. It seemed like everyone in the area fucking knew who Tate was. _Never thought he was so popular._

"Wait. You know Tate?" I asked.

"I talk to him when he comes here for his head shrinking. He likes you. I can tell. He thinks you're a pretty girl." Adelaide explained. I smiled gingerly, and coated her cheeks with blush.

"Are you a virgin?" Adelaide questioned with a dramatic spike of curiosity.

"Yes." I replied, making my tone sound obvious.

"Aren't you?" I asked skeptically.

"Hell no." She answered. I grinned and took off Adelaide's shitty headband, adding the final touches to her "pretty girl" look.

"You can't keep breaking into our house Addy." I said, remembering, _it's not going to be __our__ house for long. _I brushed her bangs, grazing them to the side.

"But I like it here. My friends are here." She protested. _Friends? What the fuck does she mean?_ Addy gaped into the mirror with enthrallment.

"Wow! Violet, I'm beautiful!" She exclaimed. She turned around to me and beamed.

"I have to go show my mom!" Addy squealed with joy. I chortled with appeal as she flounced out of the room. After reading and listening to music for a while, I roamed around my room once again to the beat of the music, waiting for kids to ring the doorbell for candy. My eyes averted to my chalkboard. Something peculiar was written on it in big muddled letters:

**MEET ME IN THE BASEMENT AT MIDNIGHT.**

**-TATE**

I smirked at the charming, yet uncanny invitation. How did that little shit sneak in to my room? An obscure midnight disembarked as I opened the creaky basement door and stepped down the grimy ancient stairs.

"Tate?" I bided, walking onto the basement floor from the last grating step.

"You said you wanted to meet at midnight. Come out, come out, where ever you are." I commanded creepily like in those horror movies with eerie young children like alabaster dolls. As I wandered curtly throughout the basement, a dark, sleek, chilling figure stood in the corner off the room. It was the rubber sex toy suit. I gasped, my head felt heavy and petrified, and my heart was pumping fear into every inch of my appalled body. I turned around to escape when the _thing_ in the suit stood right behind me, and used its rubber intoxicated hand to cover my mouth. I struggled and screamed, snapping and propelling my attacker. Once my attacker in the rubber suit pushed me to the rails of the stairs, his grip around me weakened and he started chuckling over the muffled mask. Goddammit, it was just fucking Tate. While Tate was bawling with laughter, I threw my head back and sighed of relief.

"You asshole!" I yelled, pushing him back. Still snickering, he pulled of the glossy black rubber mask. Seeing his smile instantly made my heart flutter.

"I scared you." He teased.

"No, you didn't." I protested playfully. In the suit, he looked sort of hot to be honest. His hair was rugged and messy, and the suit that coated his skin was seamlessly perfect around his body.

"Where'd you get this thing? My dad threw it out." I questioned, still panting from clandestine fear.

"Finders keepers." Tate purred. He leaned forward and kissed me. He fucking kissed me. My skin was covered in goose bumps within seconds. My heart plunged and emotions spewed out of it, hitting me in the face. I distributed all my passion and craving for this dangerous, wild boy as we made contact. As of Tate, he gave me bliss on the lips, a tunnel of forever contentment. He tasted of cigarettes and honey, a whirlwind of infatuation, right on my mouth. This experience was foreign and grand, as if I've been swallowed into ecstasy. I could feel his breath panting against me, and I certainly was doing the same due to shock and ardor. The kiss was powerful and intense, yet short and effortless. As we pulled away, I looked up at his gleaming eyes and felt like I was weightless, practically on cloud 9.

"Really, I didn't scare you?" Tate questioned.

"I said no." I replied.

"I bet I can." Tate chanced.

As Tate changed out of the tight rubber suit, I smoked my cigarette in the dark. The fumes of tobacco crawled satisfyingly inside my nose as I exhaled. I always thought smoke looked like it was dancing, mingling with thin air, and embracing a dance partner that was never really there. _What a weird thought._ Tate came back fully dressed, carrying a board and some candles in his hands. He planted the board on the small table that lay abandoned in the basement, along with the candles. It was an Ouija board that was positioned in front of me. I've seen these things before, read about them before, but never took the risk of doing it on my own. It was a waste of time anyways; ghosts and spirits were all bullshit. I situated my fingers on the board as Tate lit the red murky candle.

"You have to put your fingers on the other side." He ordered.

"I don't believe in that shit." I scoffed and shrugged in my chair, putting out my halfway burnt cig.

"Charles is going to answer all your questions. He used to live here. Tate sang eagerly.

"Is Charles going to tell me what happened to those assholes who tried to kill us? What'd you do to them?" I blurted unintentionally. This issue had been chained to my mind for some time now, and I felt relieved to say it out loud. Especially since I could trust Tate, our relationship was stronger now? I'm actually not so sure where it was going, who was going to make the first move, or were we really dating. I basically assumed we were dating like the brainless bitch I am.

"I told you, I didn't do anything. I had some help." He claimed. _Moira? Was she the help? No pun intended of course._ Tate's hands placed mine across from his on the board. Physical contact from _him_ made my stomach feel woozy and lovesick inside. This reaction was new, and I didn't exactly like it. I reminisced the last time I was struck with horror in this very place; Tate never had given me the candor I had expected. I came to the conclusion myself that he had used a mask or a realistic costume for that mutated monster whom had harmed Leah, but something in my gut wasn't right about that theory. I felt the same awful presence I had felt the day when the monster had appeared: uneasy, squirmy, cold and hot at the same time, and ill at ease. I needed answers, answers that I was supposed to receive a long fucking time ago.

"What's in this basement? I want the truth." I questioned firmly, the candle flickering on my face, swaying as if it was buffering on a screen.

"What I'm about to tell you might scare you… to death." Tate clarified sinisterly, fucking full on dramatic like in some cheesy-ass horror cliché.

"I can take it." I assured, smirking with irony.

"Dr. Charles Montgomery built this house. And here in his basement is where he worked. Charles was a doctor to the stars, But was also was a drug addict, and his wife Nora wasn't gonna let that get in the way of her lifestyle. So she set up a little secret side business; he would take care of girls who didn't want to be in trouble anymore. This went on until one day, one girl couldn't keep the secret to herself, and she told her boyfriend what happened. The boyfriend wanted revenge, so he kidnapped Charles' and Nora's baby. Terrified, the doctor and his wife waited for the ransom demands. One unfaithful day, the couple was visited by policeman, who had found their baby's dead body and delivered it to their doorstep. Driven insane by grief, the doctor used all his experience and surgical skills to try and cheat death. But what he created was ungodly, and monstrous. And even after their tragic end, that 'thing' remained down here, to this day." Tate explained vividly with menacing theatricality to his apparently "scary" speech. What a fucking shameful performance he implemented. I almost wanted to laugh out of pity. I played along with this "spooky" game by manufacturing my face into a terrified and shocked exclaim.

"Oh my god." I said, my jaw dropping to the floor in faux fear. Tate looked hopeful and anticipated for my frightened answer.

"You are so full of shit. I don't believe a word that has come from your mouth. Forget it. Forget I ever asked." I declared. Tate looked like a confused monkey. I stood up, ready to leave. This was ridiculous, nonsense, I've had enough of shitty stories and pretending. I don't want to play anymore, I don't want to act. It was time to open up, not hide behind tales of tragedy and vain.

"And I'm tired that we keep hanging out in this dark, dank place. Why can't we go somewhere, like on a real date?" I complained. I had to, I just had to make the first move. If I didn't, we'd be stuck in this position forever. Hopefully, Tate got the fucking memo.

"Alright. Tomorrow night. We'll go out." Tate eagerly agreed, getting up and holding my hands keenly. I couldn't help but smile. What a fucking weirdo._ A weirdo I was in love with. _Footsteps pounded on the dusty ceiling of the basement alarmingly.

"Your father agreed to see me again, but I'm not supposed to be here." Tate hesitated.

"Come on, I'll be your lookout." I suggested, walking up the stairs with him. We stepped out the front door and said our goodbyes. My emotions better keep their shit together if I'm going to survive another minute with him.

I skimmed through my useless history textbook. Literally, when is history going to be used in everyday life? It serves no fucking purpose; I don't need to know about concentration camps and why the Hiroshima bomb was dropped. Also, who gives homework on Halloween? It's possible that I'm the only human being on this planet who isn't out of their fucking minds. A moaning came from downstairs. It sounded like mom, and she was in pain. Without hesitation of losing my spot in my boring-ass history book, I sprinted downstairs to discover mom clutching her stomach as Ben held her.

"What's going on?" I questioned with concern. Mom screeched in pain once more.

"I got to go to the hospital. Stay here, and don't answer the door." Ben ordered, assisting mom out of the house, into the car.

"Don't answer the door? It's Halloween." I ignorantly claimed. Ben shut the fucking door in my face, not answering any of my questions_. What great parents, leaving me alone, not aware of the shit that's occurring!_ I rolled my eyes and returned to my room, drowning into the engagement of my book (Manga). _Big Mother_ by _Feeding People_ hummed from my stereo, making my bones feel alive with spirit and the crappy mood of holiday. Some songs just sort of made sense of the world. It exaggerated the aching some felt inside their souls. The doorbell chimed. I didn't answer, obeying Ben's rules. I turned up the volume to my music and lay on my back, holding the book up to my face. Now, _this_ was true joy. The doorbell chimed several times, at different times, but I chose to ignore it. I was almost done with my novel as an aggressive banging echoed from downstairs. Suspiciously, I went to check. The violent knocking on the door was insistent and the person who was responsible for the racket had absolutely no patience. I assumed that we were out of candy, and some assholes took more than one piece. _Shitheads._ How could giving some candy to a desperate kid harm me? It was only one time. What the fuck could happen that was so risky?

"My tenant Ben, I want my money!" A crusty loud voice roared from behind the door. Obviously, I was mistaken, yet attentive and peculiarly intrigued. Who was this fucker, and why did he want Ben? Another bash of knocking boomed from the other side. The only defense I had was the 100 year old door, for fucks sake.

"I'm not leaving here till I have my thousand dollars!" The man threatened, outraged and serious. The thunderous banging continued. I looked out the peephole to try and identify this infuriated man. Half of his face was deformed, like it had been molded off like clay. The mysterious man wore a hat and his arm was shriveled. Must be one of Ben's psychotic patients.

"HELLO? Ben Harmon! I want my money! Screw you! YOU OWE ME!" The man bellowed once more. I backed away from the door, mind racking and fear stabbing myself. _This has to be a fucking nightmare. _

"I'M NOT LEAVING TILL I GET MY 1,000 DOLLARS!" The man snarled brutally. He pounded insanely, with no care of himself or the door. The action was as if a rhinoceros was trying to break a brick wall with no horns. This was supreme mayhem. I had to admit, I was severely anxious and bewildered, and hopefully the maniac would give up and march back to the asylum where he belonged. I hastily grabbed my cell phone and dialed Ben's number, fretfully putting the phone to my ear in hope he would answer.

"Come on, come on." I pleaded as the dial tone trilled. He finally picked up.

"Hey honey." Ben greeted.

"Dad, there's some freaky dude at the door screaming about money. I think he might be one of your patients. I don't know, should I call the cops?" I questioned in a worried manner, fear highlighting my words.

"No! No, just… just keep the door closed. Is it locked?" Ben ordered with distress. As the man clouted the door once more, I saw the lock under the door hinge locked. Thank fucking god.

"Yeah." I assured into the cell phone.

"Answer me! I WANT MY MONEY!" the man barked wildly, throwing himself onto the door like a maniac.

"Okay, we're on our way home right now. Violet, just-just keep the door locked." Ben told me through the phone, the reception was becoming statically and grainy. The man behind the door started tittering with laughter, appeal in his weak chortle. The phone hung up on me and I quivered with horror.

"I know you're in there… is that your daughter?" He sang. This truly was a nightmare. A real one. What I felt was different than any fear I've ever felt before. This was open fear. They all say I'm not afraid of anything, but deep down, they know I am. And I know it too. This situation was unsettling capacity danger and dismay, right in front of my doorstep. And in that moment, I was profoundly afraid.

**AN: ****That's all for now guys! Once again, I am so very sorry for the chapter delay, please expect more chapters coming to you sooner than others! As I write this, I am done with my testing (YAY !) and will continue writing. Please leave reviews, they encourage me to write and post chapters quicker. I ****won't**** post until I get enough! So please write them, I really really really appreciate them! Also, leave critique in your reviews! Although all of them are positive and that makes me elated to the point where I cannot breathe, I still would enjoy some criticism to know what you don't like, and what you do like to make this story fit all of your exact expectations ^_^ I love you guys, and expect a new chapter soon! PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:****Hi everyone! Thanks all to those who left reviews; I really, really appreciate them. Also, thank you to Justbychance who has been my inspiration throughout this story, so go check her stories out. I've been in a bit of a nostalgia lately with my writing and all. Recently, I attended ****_Bethel's College_****'s "****_young author's_****" conference and it really helped me with my writing efficiency. The only thing is, I truly wish to grasp my readers and entrance them into the story, sort of like how I used too. But there are no tips or tricks when it comes to popularity. Not many people read this story anymore and I'm wondering if I should even continue it. The reason I started writing was to share my words with the world. I'm not sure, but summer is coming up and if I do continue it, the time I post it will be much more consistent. Anyways, please leave reviews, and enjoy!**

Chapter 5

My heart was maniacally climbing on the insides of my ribs, craving to burst out. My eyes were frigid, making sharp jolts and jerks to the area around myself. My breaths were constipated, as If there was an air-tight plastic bag over my head, and I was already fogging up the transparency. The vicious knocking from the door continued.

"I WANT MY MONEY!" The raspy voice cried. The deafening pounding on the door matched my fearsome heartbeats. Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding ding ding ding dong. The doorbell chimed impatiently. Suddenly, the knocking and the doorbell stopped. I held my breath, trying to perceive any hint that the psychotic man was still there. There was breathing sound, but it wasn't me. It was behind me, _someone_ was fucking breathing behind me. I turned around to find nothing. I was alone, deserted from the horror that just took place. Letting out a sigh of relief I opened the door to my room in confusion. Who was that man, and why did Ben owe him money? Why was Ben so insistent that I shouldn't call the cops, that I should lock the doors and all that shit? I locked the door behind me angrily, slamming it onto the wall like that thin ass coat of shelter could save my life. What the hell was going on? Maybe it _is_ the house, maybe it _is_ making us all crazy. Or maybe that's just me. I feel like I'm losing it, like anxiety is just boiling inside of me. I feel as if I have to faint, or puke, or both. Yet, unfortunately, I never do. All I do is stand in my own destruction of distress, burying my face in my hands like a coward. For fucks sake. My breaths began to return back to normal and I heaved a giant exhale, desperate to run away. Suddenly a familiar tap on my window echoed in my ears and I checked to see what the hell was happening now. Peering through my blinds, Tate grinned eagerly up at me, like an energetic puppy. I opened the window as he gestured to 'come down'. Down to the basement. Tate. Finally, someone who can ease this chaos. I was actually excited for our date, although we've had several ones before, I think? Well, not quite official dates, but we would hang out all the time after the invasion of those three assholes who broke in. In the mornings, he would visit me before school, and we would smoke and talk and laugh and talk some more. He would piss me off and scare me for fun and I would tease him and joke about the world until we erupted into a cloud of tobacco and ludicrous laughter. After school, he would tap on my window and we would explore the dark secrets and pasts of the house and its ex-owners. Some days we would venture into the backyard, playing 'make-believe' like fucking kindergarteners, but only when we were high. Sometimes we would just talk about school, who we are, and who we want to be. I remember one day we sat in my room at midnight, smoking, talking, laughing, and falling in love all while The Ramones played in the background aggressively.

"You know what Harmon? You're okay." He told me one day.

"You too, Langdon." I agreed sarcastically. He smirked and I rolled my eyes, lighting his cigarette and mine.

"What's your goal in life?" I asked him.

"There's not really an answer for that." He chuckled.

"I mean, what do you want to be? What do you want to do before you die?" I restated.

"Well, let's see. I want to leave this goddamn place, fly like a bird, summon Kurt Cobain back from the dead, and get fat and die in a little stumpy tree house with you." He claimed. I scoffed with amusement and plopped on my bed.

"Oh shit, _die_? _with me_?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, chortling.

"Yeah…" He nodded, chuckling gently.

"And, why a tree house? I mean, I'd much rather live in a condo. We don't want to become uncivilized assholes… Oh wait, it's too late for that." I joked. He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette and exhaled, laughing his amazing laugh.

"Fine, fine, let's compromise; how about let's say… a tree house inside a condo. It'll be so fucking a cool, the tree house will have like a deck that will show the whole view of L.A. and then like a-" He droned on about the tree-house-condos' impossible features. It was obvious we were both stoned as fuck.

"You've got yourself a deal, kid." I assured in a New York business-man's accent, exhaling from my cig. Tate lied himself next to me on the bed, putting out his half burnt cig. I positioned my legs over his thighs as I turned to him, exhaling the diluted smoke from the cig. He placed his hands not across my neck, or my waist, but my shoulders, which I thought was very cute and awkward.

"Vi?" He questioned in a high voice.

"Tate?" I said.

"Why do you think I exist?" He asked.

"Because you're fucking great. And you're the only decent person in this hellhole." I replied. He smiled.

"I think I exist so that I could meet you." He admitted, still grinning that goofy grin.

"Maybe I exist so that I could meet you." I chimed in, putting out my cig.

"That would make a lot more sense." He agreed.

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Without you, I'm nothing." Tate said, looking up at the blank ceiling. That was one of the best days of my life. And my favorite times of all, when everything was wrong in our lives, when everything felt like everything was nothing, and running away from everything was our only option, we had each other to talk to, to comfort. I would tell him about Ben and he would tell me about his mother. He told me once that I had a gift in reducing sanity, that being close to me was one hundred times better than any session with Ben. I told him he was full of shit. But somewhere deep inside, I felt the exact same way with him. Tate. The only person I wanted to see right now, I thought as I opened the door to the basement and walked down the groggy steps once more.

"Tate?" I called, expecting him to jump-scare me again or some shit. I never knew why he was so fond of scaring others; it was like a striving goal for him.

"Hey." He greeted, smiling, coming out of the dank corner of the basement. I sighed. How unexpected of him. Thank god he was here. Thank the fucking lord. Instantly I felt better, seeing _him_. Every detail, flaw, and perfection of him. The tiny freckle on his nose, his curvy deep dimples, His supple chocolate brown eyes and intense presence. Tate reeked of flaws, yet was drenched in perfection. I was so fucking glad to see him. So fucking glad. I instantly hugged him, tight, feeling security as his arms wrapped around mine.

"It's been insane here. First the cops were outside, then some freak started banging on the door, screaming about money." I explained, my voice etched with whining complain, yet thankful relief. Tate broke off of the hug and soothingly gazed into my eyes, his hands consolably on my shoulders.

"Hey, hey. Shit like that does tend to go down on Halloween. It's probably just asshole kids. It's fine now. I'm here." Tate assured. The way he looked, the effortless comfort of the way he talked, the way that he looked like he cared about me, was more than enough to put a smile on my face. Tate stepped back and held out a fresh bud rose, tainted with black paint.

"I painted it black. I know how you don't like normal things." He explained considerately with a tiny bit of shyness as he handed me the rose. I gazed at the gift. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I didn't know what the fuck to say. Something like _this_ was almost like a metaphor for me. It was something I would never forget. A fresh, supple, budding rose, cursed with its labeled gracefulness, its unfortunate grandiose. Each petal was like a tragedy, waiting to fall and cripple and die. A starlet, almost. But once the rose is dipped in black, the impression is immediately morphed. Something so breakable, so dear, can be overpowered by darkness, by impurity. Yet the form of the budded rose still had seemed to seep through the darkness to be held in this uneasy, yet grand position.

"You're the fist boy to ever give me a flower." I admitted, finally finding my words. He chuckled with satisfaction.

"Thank you, I love it." I said.

"You ready to go on our date?" He asked keenly.

"Yeah." I replied, elated for once today.

"Come on, let's go." Tate said.

**~The beach~**

Sand hugged my toes as Tate and I arrived at our "mystery date location".

"Can I open my eyes now?" I questioned.

"Not yet, stop being so fucking impatient Vi." Tate teased, his hands still concealing my eyes.

"Well I'm pretty sure I know where we're going." I claimed. He laughed his amazing laugh and led me down some sort of hill, the sandy surface of the ground still layered on top of my feet like a grainy blanket.

"Okay…You can open them now." He ordered. I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the fire in the centre of the beach, swaying and jumping in the humid California night. The beach was mysterious and alive in the dark. You could hardly see the calming waves, and you couldn't tell where the ocean shore started and where it ended, but you could still hear the crashing of the waves. The sensation of the beach was exhilarating, yet relaxing and calm.

"Come on, let's go." He beckoned into the pitch black air of the night as the waves crashed into the shore once more. A mere single millisecond caught me by a heart-racing surprise as he literally swooped me off of my feet, carrying me bridal style. He ran down the hill with me in his arms, it felt as if I was on my own personal rollercoaster, jeering and dropping down the shore. As we got to the bonfire, He set me down and eagerly started kissing me. His body swiftly planted itself on top of mine, and the steamy fumes of the fire only accentuated the moment. As the prancing flames ensnared into the dreary Halloween night, our tongues clashed together, entrancing one another with a daze of captivation so lustful and melting, it made me love him even more. His hands slowly wrapped around my waist as he kissed my neck passionately. The kisses weren't fierce and aggressive, but soft and zealous, conducting mass shivers of pleasure in my stomach.

"Why are you so energetic today?" I asked him, giggling with esteem.

"Because right now, I'm free, with you. I'm flying like a bird, higher than the wind can take me, and I don't think I ever want to come back down." Tate explained, smiling and chuckling in between kisses. I grinned back, staring into his beautiful, enticing eyes once more, watching his pupils sift from the fire that was sectioned upon us.

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Go and fly." I said. He grinned and got up, holding my hands. My cell phone annoyingly decided to ring at this very second which put a look of slight bewilderment to Tate's face.

"Hold on, I've got to take this, go ahead, I'll catch up." I ordered. He nodded and started leaping towards the life guard pole, swinging and hanging from it, and running and jumping wildly. I've never seen him so alive. It felt like he really was a bird. A free bird that had been caged for so long. I answered the call.

"Violet, where are you?" Mom's voiced questioned scornfully with concern.

"I'm just hanging with friends." I answered casually, looking over at Tate enjoying himself.

"We told you not to leave." Mom scolded.

"I'm sorry I should have called earlier. Is this the part where you make me come home?" I questioned reluctantly. Mom sighed through the phone.

"Are you safe?" She questioned.

"I swear." I replied.

"Are you having fun?" She asked. I called hear her tone become much more carefree and slightly joyful.

"Yeah." I answered.

"What happened with the guy who was banging on the door?" Mom wondered, her voice sounded worried and suspicious.

"It was just some kids. I think they were playing a prank. They went away." I could hear Tate's feet shuffle towards me in the sand. He looked so content, so excited, it made my heart skip a beat.

"I want you home in an hour." Mom ordered. Tate's face buried into my neck, kissing it, and snuggling into my hair enthusiastically.

"Okay. All right, bye." I said as I ended the call.

"Who was that?" Tate questioned.

"My mom." I replied.

"Aww.." He moaned, kissing my lips as I rested my head on the sandy ground. My hands wrapped passionately around his neck. I could feel his joyful panting as we made out which caused me to allow the kiss fall deeper until we were both sweating from the heavy make out session that took place.

"Come on, let's go by the fire." I said. He took my hand and we sat by the bonfire, letting the calming heat coat amongst us. We kissed again, on top of each other, the Converse on our feet rubbing against one another as he kissed me. It felt as if his lips perfectly contacted with mine, like a puzzle piece. The waves crashed once more as his tongue entered my mouth, and we fell into a swill of unfazed ecstasy. I felt like this was the perfect moment, on the beach, with him. I didn't want any other time to love him, than right now. I wanted to be with him, to lie with him as something not just pure. I was lustful, and I wanted him. I wanted Tate, I fucking wanted him to be mine. I wanted him to make me his. I didn't care about the mistakes, or the trouble, or the consequences. I just cared about Tate, and I wanted to be with him. My hand slowly grazed towards his thigh as I tried to speak through his passionate kiss.

"I want to." I said softly.

"Oh, no," Tate whispered into my ear. I put my slutty hand away and he broke off the kiss as I stared at his emotionless face. _Rejected, this is what it felt to be rejected._ Of course, I've faced rejection all my life. People would reject me all the time. But that was never really rejection to me. I didn't give a fuck about them. But I loved Tate. To be rejected by the one you loved the most, that was the real feeling. Not just a little playground defile. This was the ultimate tarnish. _Fucking stupid, that's what you are._ I said to myself as I gulped a big supply of regret. _How can you be such a whore Violet, such a goddamn horny hypocrite. He probably thinks I'm a freak. A desperate cry for attention. He probably thinks I'm just like all the other girls. Please let this be a dream. Why can't I just evaporate into nothing? Why can't I move right now? Why can't I run away?_

"Sorry. I thought…" I started apologizing, ashamed of myself.

"I just… Violet, I swear, I want to be with you so badly. And that's never happened to me. With a girl." Tate explained._ Thanks for taking pity on me and giving me this shit show Tate._ What was going on with me? I've never felt this way before either, and it was truthfully starting to get confusing. He wanted to be with me, but yet not with me? And, 'never before with a _girl_?'

"Are you gay?" I thought out loud.

"No. I just…" Tate replied. He got up from his position on top of me and sat next to me, watching the fierce waves plummet into the shoreline, only to be taken aback once more.

"Maybe it's those meds your dad gave me. They do that, you know." Tate suggested, a perplexed look plastered onto his face. Maybe it was, maybe it was just a raw excuse. I would never know. What I do know was that I fucked up somehow, and Tate was making up for it. I couldn't stand the bullshit any longer. There was a decayed feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was just a waste of Tate's time. I sat up next to him, ready to leave.

"I'm gonna go." I stated, getting up.

"No, no. No, Vi. I'm not ready to go. Not yet." Tate begged. He looked so considerate, so sincere, I decided to stay. Maybe he does really like me, even if I'm fucked up or not. As I sat down next to him, He wrapped his arms around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. The waves collapsed along the shore once more, sending flickers of water drops onto the footprint-stained sand. Tate's arms draped over my shoulder, holding me tight, like he was protecting me from all the bullshit and unnecessary pain.

"I used to come here… when the world closed in and got so small I couldn't breathe. I'd look out at the ocean and I'd think… 'Yo, douchebag, high school counts for jack shit.' Kurt Cobain, Quentin Tarantino, Brando, De Niro, Pacino. All high school dropouts. I… hated high school. So I'd come here and I'd look out at this vast, limitless expanse. Then it's like, that's your life, man. You can do anything, you can be anything. Screw high school. That's… It's just a blip in your timeline. Don't get stuck there." He explained, looking at the grand view, the miracle that the ocean brought him. And I looked at it too and found something I never thought I would. I didn't know what it was, but I found it. And it was somehow lodged in Tate's words. Something that sparked a certain fume that made me believe, for once, _there was hope_. Tate was smarter than all living beings combined. He, truly was a real rumination of the hopeless giving hope. And that lit a spark somehow, somewhere, that made me believe that actual hope existed. For that short period of time, at least. I gazed at him, already gazing back and rested my head on his shoulder once more. How fucking fortunate I was, to have someone like him, exist. How very fortunate indeed. Suddenly, a twig behind us snapped deliberately. Someone else was here. I looked back to see who it was. A group of people were making their way onto the sandy beach's surface.

"There's someone here." I alerted Tate who didn't seem to take the notification seriously. He looked back with me as the group of people made their way towards us. There were five of them. A cheerleader, a jock, a nerd, a rebel, and a goth. Damn high school assholes. They were all embellished with some Halloween shit makeup, making it look like they were just killed or some shit. They all looked snooty and cruel as their persistent faces sneered closer to ours. Screw them, they were waste of our time.

"Nice costumes, what are you, the Dead Breakfast Club?" I mocked with a scoff as they formed their cliché 'taunt circle' around us.

"You know, there's a whole lot of beach, guys." Tate politely informed.

"Good job, Tate. You finally came out of hiding. We've been waiting for years for you to show your face. But you like Mommy's little safe house, don't you?" The vulgar jock sarcastically congratulated. He had a bullet wound in his head, blood was still slowly dripped down from in between his eyebrows. _Holy fucking shit, they know Tate?_ I thought, bewildered. Once again, I guess he was quite popular. Moira knew him, Adelaide knew him, and now I guess these jackasses do too. I couldn't familiarize the group's faces, whether if they were from my school or not. They looked about my age, but I honestly could not reminisce. All I knew was they were the exact same as any other high schooler; assholes. These were probably Tate's tormenters.

"I don't know you." Tate protested. _Possibly unknown tormenters I presume then._ Perhaps they were the kids who would whisper about you, talk about you, verbally harass you, but you would never know.

"You know, I'm actually surprised you have the balls to show your face around here." The cheerleader ridiculed. She was very beautiful, and had the face of a possible prom queen. Ladies and gentlemen, I would call this girl, another high school bitch. Just like Leah, before the incident anyways. The cheerleader had a gory bullet wound on her chest; you could almost see her organs. The sign on her cheerleading uniform was hardly visible to read from all the blood, but I knew the logo right away. She _was_ from Westfield High.

"Yeah. Maybe you should have worn a mask." The goth girl taunted with a smug face, right in Tate's face. Her dark makeup and black lips sputtered as she curled her expression into a crude, sinister smirk. The goth wore all dark, and her alabaster skin was an even shade of pastel apricot. Her 'injury' was the most horrendous of them all. It looked as if the side of her head was shot off. You could see her fucking brain, exposed to the California night. Blood strained around her brain, soaking parts of her hairline, and dripping down the side of her cheeks atrociously.

"I'm not really into Halloween." Tate explained.

"But this year's different, right? You have a date. How cute is that?" The goth jeered.

"Leave her alone." Tate ordered firmly, standing up as if he was protecting me or some shit. The goth girl stood up as well, facing Tate with intimidation.

"We don't want her. We want you." The jock sneered.

"How about we drown him?" The goth suggested. What the fucking hell was this parade of murder? Where they actually serious, that they would go so far that they would kill Tate? If anyone on that beach were a psychopath, it was them.

"No, we should shoot him, right between the eyes." The jock chimed in, touching his bullet wounds. Tate looked intensely scared out of his fucking mind. I decided to put an end to this nonsense. All of this was bullshit, 'scary' threats just to spite us, to make us leave or whatever. Honestly, who the hell would believe these dickhead's crap? Just another fucking mischief act to paste the outcasts back on the wallflower wall.

"Ha, ha, Halloween pranks." I said sarcastically, standing up next to Tate. It was my turn to protect him.

"Somebody please waste this bitch." The goth complained.

"Yeah, why does he get a girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend." The rebel whined. His hair was wavy and shoulder-length and he wore a black leather jacket with red flannel underneath. The side of his jaw was shot up appallingly, which trailed to a mass quantity of blood splatters on his face.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The rebel asked the nerd. The nerd simply shook his head. In fact, he was silent all this time. He had messy ruffled brown hair and gigantic dorky glasses. Blood gushed out of his mouth, leaving horrific pools and stains of deep red on his face.

"Kyle, you?" the rebel questioned to 'Kyle', or in this case, 'the jock'.

"No, I haven't had sex in a long time." Kyle replied, tilting his head to the side mischievously.

"Come on, let's go. This beach sucks. Someone should pick up the trash." Tate beckoned. He grabbed my hand, and abandoned the beach he once loved so dearly.

**~The house~**

Those kids went to Westfield High. It was written on the cheerleader's uniform and the jock's jersey. But who were they really? And why the fuck did they want to kill Tate? What did he do to him? There were so many questions, and so little answers. They were deeply engrossed in Tate, like they hated him in a personal way. Tate was going to tell me what the fuck was occurring, whether he wanted to or not. I closed the bedroom door and turned to Tate.

"Are you seriously going to act like nothing happened at the beach? They totally knew you Tate." I interrogated.

"But I don't know them." Tate explained in a confused tone.

"Then why do they hate you?" I protested crossly. Tate averted his eyes down at the ground. He paced around the room.

"They-They're just high school assholes. I mean, the world's full of them. It's popular kids who get off on being mean and cruel. I thought you understood that." He said with a gloomy expression, yet squirmy and full of stutter, as if he was trying to find words to say.

"Tate, I can tell you're totally freaked out." I assumed, looking intently into his uneasy eyes, a heap of worry concealed beneath them. Suddenly, Hallie started barking vigorously, meaning someone was at the door. I checked out my window to find five, high school stereotypes walking up to the front porch.

"It's them. They followed us here? This is bullshit." I expressed, angry and livid that they had invaded our solitude. I balled my hands into a fist. What the fuck did they want so badly that they had to fucking follow us and come to _my_ house? What was wrong with them? I seized the first potential weapon I could find, which was a scissor, and stormed out the house. I opened the door to find the jock leaning on Ben's car while the cheerleader sat on it, twirling her hair. The nerd was leaning on the corner of the porch while the goth sat lazily on the ground, leaning on the brick wall. Last but not least, the rebel stood beside the goth, sitting on the brick wall of the porch where me and Tate used to sit; smoking and talking.

"Oh, great, he sends his little girlfriend out." The jock exclaimed with an arrogant look plastered onto his face.

"With a pair of scissors. You gonna make us some paper dolls?" The goth girl mocked. _Fucking bitch._

"This is private property. I have every right to call the cops." I threatened, clutching the pair of scissors toward the goth.

"Go ahead, call them. You'll probably need them." The cheerleader insisted spitefully with a smile.

"Screw that. She deserves whatever happens to her." The jock chimed in, his eyes squinting in hatred. I was pointing the scissors toward him now. Whatever happens to me? Not a damn thing will fucking happen because their asses will be beat before the cops even arrive. They're just screwing with me, I know it.

"Yeah, she's like those lonely, fat chicks that marry guys on _Death Row_. You're deeply, deeply disturbed." The goth agreed. That was fucking it. I've had enough.

"You guys need to take your disgusting made-up faces and go home. Now." I ordered sternly, turning to each and every one of those bastards.

"Made-up?" the jock rhetorically asked, getting up and walking toward me along with the cheerleader.

"Home? Where is that? I'm an only child. After what happened, my parents split up, sold the house, moved away. No forwarding address. So I don't have a home." The cheerleader explained scornfully, looking as if she was about to cry red, angry tears. Maybe these kids had their problems too, but doesn't everybody? Doesn't everybody weep once, or fall asleep feeling like their stranded in their nightmares for once in their lives?

"Parents suck, but I can't fix it for you." I disdained, barricading the desire for them to exit my property in an obvious fashion.

"Can you fix this? Can you give me my scholarship to Georgia Tech? I'm supposed to be starting quarterback freshman year." The jock issued, pointing to the bullet wound on his forehead. What the hell? Was this guy actually shot, actually dead? Or was this all some mischief, all some Halloween fucking pranks? I don't even know what is real and what isn't anymore.

"She doesn't care. She's in love, and she'll do anything for him, including giving him her virginity. Tonight was the night, wasn't it?" The cheerleader explained to the jock. I thought it was the night. I thought. But I was wrong, Tate isn't those type of people, he wasn't with me for the sex, he was with me because he liked me, and I respect him for that.

"None of your business." I said as the cheerleader smirked.

"Stupid slut. She's worst than he is. She thinks it's okay what he did to us." The jock scoffed sinisterly, circling around the porch in an intimidating matter. Worst than 'he is'? Were there things that Tate hasn't opened up to me? Sinful events that I wasn't supposed to find out?

"What did he do to you?" I shouted, backing away from the assholes as they continued slithering towards me like ravenous snakes.

"She doesn't know." The cheerleader claimed. Damn right I didn't know. Was I supposed to know? And what the hell was I supposed to know? This was a tidal wave of secrets and madness, although I was the only body of water that wasn't joining the wave. I remained a clueless little bitch, allowing myself to withhold while everyone treated me like dirt without even knowing if I was dirt or not. Most of all, the person who I was defending was not fucking here with me right now, or giving me specific answers, reasons, and alibis. I had supposed if you liked someone, you trusted them, but Tate just acted dumbfounded although it was quite fucking obvious he knew something. Tate was hiding something, I'm sure of it, but I wasn't quite sure why he was hiding it. What could've been so treacherous for him to force onto these suspicious shitheads?

"About what?" I asked the cheerleader. The nerd was starting to attempt to talk but it resulted in some form of garbled speech. As he opened his mouth, a ghastly amount of blood dashed down his lips, lathering up half his face. The nerd held his hand to his mouth to clot the blood from pouring, and looked down at the ground disappointingly. The cheerleader patted the nerd's shoulder sympathetically.

"It's okay." The cheerleader consoled.

"How have you not heard of Westfield High?" The jock questioned to me, his tone less aggressive and crude.

"We just moved here." I replied.

"Pick up a yearbook, bitch." The goth clucked.

"Or read a newspaper." The cheerleader demanded.

"We're kind of famous." The rebel chimed in. Are you fucking kidding me? Newspapers? Yearbooks? Who do these fucking fools think I am, some kind of wannabe jack-off? I scoffed and gave a cheap smile.

"So you're popular, and you're pissed off. I don't know who you are." I nagged at each and every one of them.

"Let's put her down, out of her misery." the goth suggested, staring at me as if I was some sort of rodent. Her eyes were faint and lifeless, as If she didn't know what the hell she was even staring at because of her dull, matte, soulless expression.

"Leave her alone!" Tate's voice shouted behind us. A wield of respite and relief instantly calmed me down as Tate approached the group. I had never seen this side of him before, except the basement incident with Leah. His eyes were a timbre of cloudy black, and his skin was paler than a bleached parasite. His eyes were angry and maniacal, as if he had collided with the devil himself. His approach and expression was intimidating, heavy with rapid negative energy, and a bulging rage showered him.

Finally, the Prodigal Son returns." The jock exclaimed.

"Come on down, man. We've got some questions." The rebel ordered.

"Go inside, I can handle this." Tate commanded. He can handle this? Like he fucking handled the three home invaders, or how he handled Leah? There is no way in hell I'm going to let him get away from all this bullshit this time. No more secrets. No more mysteries. No more lies. I remembered the threats they gave Tate, and it was risky enough to be even standing near them. They were dangerous, and I wasn't going to let the one good thing in my goddamn life leave my side to go fucking around fighting high school travesties.

"I seriously doubt that." The cheerleader hissed. _No shit, Sherlock._

"Go inside!" Tate bellowed.

"No, they want to hurt you." I protested, easing Tate's violent snarl by clinging onto his arm protectively.

"Karma's a bitch, Tate." The goth scowled, hands on her hips as if she had heard the same thing said to herself long ago.

"You want to talk to me? Let's see how fast you can run." Tate growled, bolting into the October dusk of the night. My heart clashed. My knees grew weak and fingers started shivering. I felt a bizarre delusion of dopiness in my mind, stirring and sagging coldly. Worry. Concern. Fear. Sorrow. Anxiety. Fret. All understatements of the feeling lodged inside my stomach. I felt as if I was about to faint. _Please, please, for fucks sake, please let Tate be okay, please let Tate be okay._ I pleaded in my head, stinging tears blurred and coated my eyes, sheering them glossy pink. If anything happens to him, I'll be damned for life and I know it. This whole bullshit dilemma was weighing me down, crushing my very existence. What could be done to assist Tate from getting hurt, or worse? I immediately flipped open my cell phone and dialed 911. The deadpan ringing in my ears stopped as the operator answered the call.

"911, what is your emergency?" The operator questioned firmly.

"Hello, Hey, my boyfriend's in trouble. There's a bunch of kids chasing him. I think they're gonna kill him." I stated into the phone, my voice rapid and reflected with airy panting from the mild breakdown I was experiencing. Suddenly, two bony hands lunged at me, pushing me almost to the ground, causing me to unfortunately end the call out of shock.

"Come with me to my house now." A female voice ordered sternly. I turned around to see who the fuck this lady was and what she wanted. It was Constance, of course. That bitch. She looked tired, her wrinkles were more visible to the eye, and her eye bags were darker than the Halloween night itself, puffy and swollen fuchsia. She wore her metallic silky pastel pink robe, as if she had just gotten out of bed. Constance's hair was also not up like how it usually was, all "Virginian 60s housewife" if you will. It was messy, and down. Her curls were not secure and flawless, but springy and loose, like someone glued cheap Barbie doll hair to her head.

"Leave me alone, you crazy bitch!" I shouted, already aware that the women I was facing attempted to poison me with cupcakes. Constance clutched the collar of my shirt, violently tugging it up as if a cliché school bully would do to a kid who was not willing to give up their lunch money.

"Addy is dead because of you!" Constance accused furiously through gritted teeth. _Dead?_ How can she be dead? What did _I_ ever do that caused this? I felt bad for Addy, we were sort of friends, or acquaintances. She was somewhat humorous, and full of life, like a child on a playground, having the time of their lives, yet knowing about the cruel society around them, accepting the stares and the laughs and all the insults. The fact that she wanted to be a pretty girl, made my heart sting. We had things in common, and I knew exactly how she felt. I can't imagine having Down syndrome, waking up every day to know that there is nothing wrong with you at all, yet people think that there is. For me, it was different. I woke up every day knowing that there something was most definitely wrong about me, and having people see it too. I felt bad for her; being judged, having Constance as a mother, and wanting to be a pretty girl. Yet, to some extent, I admired her too. She had survived the tortures of life, especially for a down syndrome woman for 30-some years(At least mom tells me she's 33). What a curious night to die, on Halloween, but then again, Adelaide was always very curious. But why would Constance blame me for her departure? Constance dragged me into her puny vintage house, and slammed me onto her splintered wooden chair at the kitchen table. For an old woman, she was utterly tough. Her kitchen was sloppy, and inconvenient. Utensils and un-kitchen-like items and knick knacks were scrawled and splattered all over the place. Cheap wallpaper of yellow vintage tangerines plastered on the wall and rusty white countertops only made it look more like a typical southern home in the 60s. What instantly caught my attention was a mask on the counter, the face looking like a porcelain doll with black bangs and perfect facial features.

"She got hit, by a car. No one seems to understand how or why. It was a hit and run, no sign of her _murderer._ Some unholy adorned teenagers apparently witnessed the death, claiming that Addy merely was over-excited and ran to the next house for candy without looking both ways. The state officials believe them, but I wouldn't put my faith on those medieval sluts. _Jesus H Christ, I don't know what to believe anymore!_" Constance explained, smiling at the end of her explanation painfully. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, full of vacancy and instability. She planted two cups of tea on the kitchen table and sat down as well. I kept staring at the mask on the kitchen counter, and I felt it staring at me. She noticed and pointed at the creepy-ass thing.

"Oh that, yes, that was Adelaide's pretty girl mask." Constance sighed. She turned back to me slowly, and stared. She just simply stared. That was enough to get me to leave the goddamn house. Her eyes almost squinted while staring into mine, like she was scouring for the lost. The circumstance was outright awkward and unreservedly odd as fuck. Finally, she closed her eyes, tension rising. It felt like an hour she closed her eyes, if I didn't know the situation, I would have thought she was sleeping. A peculiar woman she was, although it's not like I didn't know that already. It was like she was waiting for her heart to stop writhing from loss and sorrow.

"She wanted to be a pretty girl." Constance stated in a high pitched manner, finally opening her eyes. I looked down at the ground, remembering Adelaide pestering me to make her into a pretty girl just a few hours ago.

"Of course, she didn't look so pretty… lying on that table under those harsh, energy efficient lights." Constance said, her voice trembling. I knew what she was talking about. They sent Adelaide to a morgue. I couldn't imagine Addy in a morgue. Once again, she was so full of life. It was basically deeming to the brim of her crooked smile every time she expressed one. Never thought it would come to be like this.

"One of the many comforts of having children is knowing one's youth has not fled, but merely been passed down to a new generation. They say when a parent dies, a child feels his own mortality. But when a child dies, It's immortality that a parent loses." Constance trembled, glossy coats of tears covering her eyes as redness returned to the trough of her eye bags. She seemed so shaken, so anguished and heartbroken by the death of her child. As foolish and crazy as she was, she really did love Adelaide.

"Constance, I'm so sorry." I consoled as best as I could. She smiled and looked down at the ground, sipping her tea.

"Well, you did encourage her, that's true. But you were just trying to be kind, weren't you? I was the one who sent her out into the world tonight. And it did what it will do." Constance justified, stammering at points, as if she were going to crawl into a ball and cry.

"Go ahead, drink your tea honey." Constance offered, signaled to the cup in front of me. Tea never really interested me. They were just flavored leaves and hot water. My eyes explored the kitchen, finding something to have instead of tea. A very fancy cigarette pack lay next to Constance. I was genuinely craving tobacco at that moment, and couldn't help it to ask.

"Can I have one of those?" I questioned, pointing to the cig pack.

"Oh, a cigarette? Certainly." Constance allowed as I took a cig from the gold snake skin pack.

"Just don't let your mama know that I am encouraging your vices." Constance added as she lighted me up. I inhaled the smoke, and quickly exhaled, not trying to enjoy such luxury of the smoke waltzing around in my lungs satisfyingly whilst the woman who sat across from me experienced pain and grief.

"You know, Adelaide was a willful child. I suppose if she inherited anything from me, it was that. In truth, I think my little monster was more like me than any of my other children." Constance claimed proudly, confidence replenishing in her voice.

"I didn't know you had other children." I blurted subliminally. Now I would probably have to look through baby pictures of her other children and listen to tedious stories of how they lost their first tooth and shit like that. I assumed this because of the unfaithful past experiences with other relatives Constance's age. Constance brushed her fingers through her hair and looked intently into space.

"Tate is my son." Constance admitted. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Was Tate my neighbor? Why haven't I seen him with Constance or Addy? And does this mean the bitch of a mother Tate keeps bringing up is Constance? I mind scrambled like a million secluded pieces of an untouched puzzle. I was right, I really didn't know Tate. At all. I didn't know about what he'd done to those "popular" group of kids, I didn't know Constance was his mom, which both were crucial notes he could have told me. I thought he trusted me. There I was, each day after school, pouring out my emotions and feelings toward him like I was bombing his very existence with a cannonball, while he hinted some gimmicks and explained some summaries of his secrets. I felt like throwing up. Or crying. Or fainting. Or everything all at once. Instead I just said;

"What?"

"He cannot know about this, Violet. He cannot know that his sister has passed. Not now… He doesn't… react well to certain things. So you… You have to promise me." Constance said, sounding like she was about to sob violently into her hands. Instead, she forcefully grabbed my arms, her brittle fingernails clinging and clenching into my skin desperately.

"I don't understand." I mumbled in all honesty, trying to calculate the bullshit that was happening in my little baffled brain.

"Well he's a sensitive boy. You've seen that. He-he's a young man with… too deep feelings, the soul of a poet. But none of the grit or steel that acts as a bulwark against this… these horrors of this world. The steel that has protected me. That Adelaide possessed. And that…that you have too." Constance trembled in her Southern Virginian accent, tears forming dramatically in her tear ducks.

"I think… That's why he's taken so with you. He craves your strength." Constance admitted, grinning gingerly, Picking up a picture located on one of her wooden shelves, admiring it with blissful, warm eyes.

"Look. Maybe he just misses his sister. But we must protect him, Violet." Constance said, handing me the photo. I analyzed it assiduously. Tate and Adelaide were both grinning with aggrandize, Tate's arm was over Adelaide's shoulder, leaning by a tree. Tate was keeping secrets, but what? I needed to find out, and I needed to find out soon. The person I love the most has tainted my trust. They have grasped my honesty and stepped on it, swallowed down my acceptance. It felt like betrayal. At this moment, the circumstance was truly worse than all the swarm my nightmares articulated. The infidelity blared at me like a sign of travesty and the fallen, all summed up in one. This of course, this wasn't the end of the fucking world, but might have been the end of me and Tate.

**AN:****So that was the end of the chapter, I hoped you liked it ^_^ I'm currently on summer break right now so, I'll be definitely be more active on this site… YAY! After I finish this fanfic, I'll most likely do one in Tate's POV, but not the murder house story, you'll see. It'll definitely have Violate in them though, not those OC shit. Anyways, Please leave reviews guys, I check for them every day and they honestly are so helpful while writing this story. I love you all, please leave reviews! I won't post the next chapter until I get enough!**

**ilysm**


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